


Nothing Wrong With Loving Who You Are

by bluehairedbaby (orphan_account)



Series: Nothing Wrong With Loving Who You Are [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Album: Midnight Memories (One Direction), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Bottom Harry, Concerts, Depressed Harry Styles, Depression, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, FTM transition, Fluff, Gay Male Character, M/M, One Direction Tours, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Top Louis, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Harry Styles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 36,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bluehairedbaby
Summary: All Harry wants to be is himself. Was it really too much to ask?Louis loves his best friend, but he's afraid his whole word will come crashing down if he tells anyone.Maybe they're the only ones who can save each other.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Nothing Wrong With Loving Who You Are [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761742
Comments: 32
Kudos: 109





	1. Prologue

When you're young, you have this inherent belief that you know everything. Every child acts this way. They know who they are, inside and out. They don't understand superficial things. They just look for the good in people. They don't believe that there could be bad in anyone.

Once, a boy was born into the world, one February day in 1994. From that day forward, he knew himself, in and out. He knew for certain a few things about him. Like he loved music. As long as he could remember, he would stand at the bottom of the stairs while his older sister played music, pretending to play the guitar. He loved going outside, running around, even when he tripped over the hem of his skirt.

Most importantly, he knew he was a boy. Even when nobody else did. It wasn't their fault, it was hard to explain that when you're three and can barely find the words to express what you feel inside.

He remembered that when he was seven, he stayed up late until the middle of the night. He crawled out of bed, got on his knees and folded his hands, leaning against the bed. He prayed that someone would listen from up there and make his wish come true. But it never did.

Seven was a bad year. When he realized that nobody was ever going to answer his prayers, he began to shut himself off, turning into an empty shell of someone who used to be such a happy child. He stopped eating for a while, quickly catching his parent's attention. His mum in particular panicked once he took his shirt off, revealing just how thin he was. She showed his dad.

His parents started to have long conversations in the kitchen while their children played outside. Soon, the conversations turned into fights, and before he knew it, they were fighting about the pettiest things.

Things got scary sometimes, and he cried into his pillow at night, the underlying message of 'this is your fault' ringing in his ears like a bell, or a song on repeat.

Soon, he was sitting down on the couch with his sister. He learned what 'divorce' meant. Daddy would be going away for a while, his parents. It didn't mean he didn't love them, just that some things don't always work out. The boy cried that day, and he didn't stop crying for a while. Even in the middle of class, he would burst into tears, only adding to the confusion of his peers and his teachers.

He didn't have anyone to talk to. His older sister had grown into a phase where it wasn't cool to have him around. His dad was away most of the time, and his mum was busy, working and cleaning and caring for them constantly. She didn't have time to talk. He tried to make friends, but nobody at his school understood him.

Once, he tried to play with the boys during gym class. They asked him why. He said because he was a boy and wanted to play with them. They laughed at him, lying to him, poking at his curls and his dress and his bow. He ran behind a tree, crying, and they called him a baby.

The bullying at his school got worse once those boys told pretty much the whole school about their encounter with him. He could barely walk down the hallway without having someone lean into his face and sneer at him. His teachers didn't bat an eyelash. 'Boys will be boys,' They said. 'It's a phase, she'll grow out of it eventually.'

By the time he was almost ten, he'd decided he'd had enough. He was sitting up on the roof, having climbed up there from the tree in the backyard. It was drizzling slightly, almost like the sky decided to cry along with him. The rough shingles felt gravelly on his skin as he crouched down on the edge of the roof.

He tried to think of any reason not to jump. There were so many, but the temptation of having everything painful end then and there was too strong. He leaned over, looking down at the ten foot drop.

He'd expected it to hurt more.

He woke up a day later in a hospital bed. His mum was beside him, her eyes swollen and red, like she'd been crying for a week. He couldn't help but cry as well, confused as to what happened. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him like she used to when he was a baby. A good neighbor had run over, telling her what happened as soon as she saw. His mum rushed him to the hospital, praying for a miracle.

She took him to see a psychiatrist. Slowly, but surely, the puzzle began to piece together as the boy revealed his encounters with other students, his thoughts and deepest secrets. Things began to make sense.

He was diagnosed with gender dysphoria. He didn't understand it at the time, believing it was just a fancy word for what he'd known his whole life. But when it was explained to him, it made sense. His own identity, how he saw himself, was different from the sex he was assigned at birth. So even though he'd been born as a girl, with girl parts, he was a boy. His mum was confused at first. She blamed herself for not picking up on any signs.

She read a book on the subject and reached out to other mothers of transgender children online. It took awhile for her to fully understand, but in the end, she accepted her son.

She explained everything to his sister and dad, who didn't have as much of a good reaction as she had. His sister was fine with it, she could adjust to calling him her brother, but he didn't see his dad in person for quite a few years.

She took him to see a doctor, asking what she could do to help him. She learned how to use proper pronouns, avoid misgendering him, and help him feel more comfortable in his body. She helped him pick and choose through his clothing, donating what he didn't want to wear anymore. She took him to the hairdressers, helping to cut off his long curls. Afterwards, she would often catch him looking at himself in the mirror, running his fingers through his short hair, emitting little gasps of awe every single time. She never knew it would bring her so much joy to see him happy again.

She told the family. They took a minute to understand, but they did in the end.

She asked him if there was a name he'd like to be called rather than the one he had already. He said yes, then spent a whole day thinking of one.

It was such a triumph to finally see his name on his tenth birthday cake. He blew out his candles, but he didn't wish anything. His dream had finally come true, after all.

He never went back to his old school. Instead, he was enrolled in a different one, where he made friends. People were nicer there. His close friends knew about his transition, and they didn't judge him.

When he was twelve, things started to change. Physically.

Puberty hit when he was almost thirteen. His chest started to grow more, bigger. Scared, he said nothing, opting to wear baggy sweaters to hide it.

He got his first period when he was almost fourteen. He told his mum, and she told his doctor, who prescribed Testosterone for him. He needed to take injections every couple of weeks, and his mum helped him for a little while until he learned to do it himself. After four months of injections, his periods stopped. His shoulders broadened, his voice deepened. Even the shape of his face changed, becoming more angular, rather than soft and round.

When he was fifteen, he started wearing a binder. He knew there were dangers that came with it, but he couldn't have top surgery until he was seventeen. He figured he could wear it for a couple of years. He liked the way it looked when he put on a shirt, his chest flattened.

He finally thought he looked like a boy.

When he was sixteen, he tried his luck on the X Factor. He thought that at best, he'd get through his audition, maybe through boot camp. On his own, of course.

But surprisingly, that didn't happen. He met some of the best friends he'd ever have on that show, he was put into a band with them. They made it all the way to the finals, and for a little while, he let himself believe they had a chance.

He was crushed when they only came in third.

However, they had a second chance at success when they were offered a record deal. He didn't think twice about it, he signed the contract then and there.

Finally, to the public, he was just Harry. A boy. Nobody thought otherwise, not even for a minute.

The downside came with a crashing realization. He didn't have the time to move any further with his transition. He'd talked to his management about wanting to take a break so he could get surgery, but every time they refused him. There was always a tour to perform, or an album to write for, or promo to do. He never caught a break.

So one night, when he was nineteen, he sat, wondering if it was worth it.


	2. One

"Now, can we talk about your new single, Best Song Ever, for a minute?" The interviewer asked, flashing her perfect white teeth as she spoke. She asked the question like she didn't already know the answer.

The boys all nodded with agreement. "Yeah," Liam answered for the band.

Harry shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. It was a hot room, and his binder felt ten times tighter than usual. They'd been doing press all day for their upcoming album and film, and he was beyond ready to return to his hotel room and undress.

This was the last interview, thankfully.

"Now, boys, you all dressed up as characters for the music video, and Zayn, you in particular dressed up as a woman," the interviewer told them, looking right at Zayn. Harry pretended to smile at the memory, though it was all for show.

He remembered what had really happened behind the scenes, how he'd stumbled upon the crew whispering behind their backs. But it was supposed to be a funny story, so Harry had to pretend like it was funny.

"Yeah, that was weird." Liam said, tapping Harry's leg slightly in apology. Harry glanced at Liam in a silent response. He knew it was scripted, and Liam didn't really mean anything against Harry. "I just looked over and Zayn had boobs." Liam said.

The interviewer laughed, as well as the boys. "Zayn, what was it like to be a lady?" She asked.

"Hard." He said. "It was hard to walk around in heels. I don't know how women do it, loads of respect for them."

Harry smiled at that, for real this time. It was nice to hear his bandmates slip in little comments like that, instead of playing the parts of the womanizers, like their management wanted them too. Harry had seen both sides of sexism, and knew how hard it was for women.

"Now, on to different questions," the interviewer said, turning to Harry. "Harry, earlier this week, you were seen out last week with Kendall Jenner. Now tell us, what is going on there?"

Harry's heart sank, but he kept the smile plastered to his face. "She's a good friend." He said calmly, watching his manager from the corner of his eye. It wasn't what he was supposed to answer, but it didn't make much of a difference, did it?

"Are you sure?" The interviewer persisted. Harry nodded, a smug feeling settling in his mind. It was nice to win for once.

She went on to ask more questions, but Harry didn't answer any of them. He was too busy focused on the anger in his manager's face, knowing that he would have to deal with that after this was over.

\---

"What the hell were you thinking!?" Alan yelled at Harry.

Harry didn't flinch. He'd been in this position many times. Him, in a chair, Alan, in front of him, screaming in his face, Louis, Niall, Liam and Zayn behind them, leaned against the wall.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't want a girlfriend." He said.

Alan slapped his hand on the desk, rising up to tower over Harry. "You fucking idiot." He seethed. Harry swore he could see steam rising from his ears. "You never listen. We do everything to protect you and your reputation, and you pull this bullshit."

Harry threw his hands up in frustration. "I don't want to have to put up with a beard!" He yelled.

Alan got right in front of his face. "Remember, boy, I have the power to kick you out. I can, and will ruin you if you break your contract."

He straightened up. "You're going on another date with Kendall next week." Harry rolled his eyes. "And you will show up." Alan ordered. "All of you can leave now."

Harry rose from the chair, glaring daggers at Alan. Turning around, the other boys offered him expressions of sympathy. He didn't want sympathy. He didn't know what he wanted, but he didn't need people feeling sorry for him.

"Let's go." He said.

\---

Back in his hotel room, he closed the door behind him. Usually he would be rooming with Louis. But this time around, their managers had decided that they didn't want anymore Larry rumors, and so Harry was all by himself.

He crossed the room, sitting on the bed. Tearing off his shirt, he exhaled, finally feeling the cold air against his torso. His binder was exposed to the room, and he pulled the fabric up slightly, before reaching back, pulling it over his head. He breathed in, feeling relief spread like a wave of cool water throughout his chest.

Grabbing a sleeveless shirt, he pulled it on over his bare chest. He wouldn't have to go out again, technically, unless he wanted dinner, and nowadays, he didn't really like eating too much. He knew it was a dangerous habit. He had to work so hard to break it when he was younger, but now, he just was unafraid. That, or he stopped caring a long time ago. When people started commenting on his weight he stopped eating, but only in moderation. He still got what he needed to eat, and he worked out, so he was being healthy, right? Recently he'd just stopped eating most of the time. Unless one of the boys asked him to go to dinner with them, then he would eat. 

And yeah, call him stupid or careless. But he'd crossed the line a long time ago, and he didn't want to go back. He just seemed to always be in this perpetual state of numbness.

Words didn't sting as much as they used to. Even at the shoot, he didn't care. He heard what they were saying, and he didn't correct them. He didn't confront them. Clearly, nobody cared enough to shield him from what they were going to say about him, so why should he?

Besides, it wasn't like he was the only one who got criticism. Louis had his fair share of it, from both management and fans. 

He smiled at the thought. Louis, who'd done nothing to deserve what he got. He was only the sweetest, most caring, kindest person Harry knew. Hell, he was the first person Harry came out to after the X Factor, and he didn't care. He protected him, actually. Kept his 'secret.' It was Harry's business if he wanted to tell everyone, and Louis respected that. 

He made Harry feel a certain way. Happy, and warm inside. Nobody else made Harry feel like that. But then again, Louis was the only person Harry felt like he really, truly cared for, outside of his mum and sister. At least, he cared differently about Louis than he did the rest of the band. 

And yeah, he knew what that was a sign of. But he knew, deep down inside, that Louis would never, not in a million years, feel the same way about Harry. Not while he was with Eleanor, at least. 

Besides, management would throw a shit storm if they went out. Their fans already thought there was something going on between them, if there really was something going on behind closed doors, things would just be worse. Harry couldn't even touch Louis onstage without getting yelled at. Personally, he was starting to believe their managers looked for every little chance to yell at Harry. It was an almost daily occurrence. 

But he was fine. Really, he was. 

\---

Louis sighed in his hotel room, sinking onto the bed. That was one hell of a meeting. He felt awful, standing in the back of the room while Harry was screamed at relentlessly. And for what? It wasn't like they were on a shortage of beards. They seemed desperate to pair Harry up with almost anyone. Well, almost anyone, as long as they were a woman. 

Because that was what they always did. Personally, Louis hated it. It most certainly crossed a line, and that meant a lot coming from him, the same bloke who masqueraded around a girl and pretended to love her. Except, nobody knew that. Not even the boys. 

Another reason Louis hated it: it kinda crushed all his chances with Harry. 

He'd liked him since the X Factor. Even before Harry came out, Louis had just these super intense feelings for him. And it wasn't fair that they were barely allowed to look at each other even. All Louis wanted to do was wrap him up in his arms, kiss him until he ran out of air. But that would only ever happen in his dreams. He knew that for a fact. 

But even now, as Louis looked into the mirror, sitting on the edge of the bed, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. He could picture Harry in front of him, his hair pushed back and his smile wide, dimples exposed. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, closing his eyes for a moment. 

"Hey, Harry," he said. "I know it sounds stupid, but would you like to maybe grab dinner? With me?"

That wouldn't work. 

"So, Harry, would you ever consider going a date? Together?" He tried again. 

A hard pass.

He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of everything he so desperately wanted to say. "Harry," he said, undoubtedly looking ridiculous, talking to himself in the mirror and pretending it was his best friend. "I just wanted to say that I've liked you for a really long time. And I wanted to know if you did too. Romantically, I mean," he chuckled at his own stupidity. "I think I love you."

Had Harry been there, it probably would've been a very touching moment. But he wasn't. It was just Louis, and by the sound of the door, someone else.

Zayn stood at the doorway, jaw dropped, gaping at Louis, who couldn't bring himself to do anything other than stare right back at Zayn. He pointed at Louis, trying to find the words. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked Louis.


	3. Two

Zayn stood in the middle of the doorway, open-mouthed, pointing directly at Louis, who wished he could be literally anywhere else in the world at that exact moment. His cheeks were tinged pink from mortification, and Zayn looked pretty flustered too, probably from second hand embarrassment after what he’d just walked in on: Louis talking to his own reflection, pretending to ask Harry out. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Louis said defensively, raising his hands in front of him. 

“Really?” Zayn asked, cocking an eyebrow. He was definitely not buying whatever bullshit Louis was prepared to use as an excuse. “‘Cause it looked pretty suspicious. Don’t know how anyone would think otherwise.” His face turned serious, and he stepped in fully, closing the door behind him. 

“Harry?” He asked. Louis bowed his head, nodding. Zayn exhaled shakily, clasping his hands together and bringing them up to his mouth, trying to ground himself. He couldn’t even look Louis in the eye for a couple minutes, taking in the whole scene. 

Finally, he managed to look up at Louis, completely shocked. “Since when-” he started, cutting himself off. “What about Eleanor?”

Louis swallowed hard. His mind was thinking up different lies and excuses to use to change the subject, all the while his pulse was quickening and his lungs feeling like they were on fire, burning as he tried to breathe in and out. However, in the end, there was no way he was going to be able to successfully cover this up, hide it from his friend much longer. 

“I don’t love her,” he tried to explain, but Zayn cut him off before he could go on. “That doesn’t really help the situation, mate,” he said. “It’s your own business, but you can’t cheat on El.”

Louis sighed in frustration. “I’m trying to tell you, I’m not dating her!” He cried. Zayn took a step back, surprised. “What?” He asked, looking extremely mind blown. Louis took a breath. “She’s not my girlfriend,” He explained. “You know what a beard is, right?”

Zayn nodded, slowly beginning to understand as bits of the puzzle were pieced together by Louis. “Well, she’s mine,” Louis said. “I never really dated her, it’s just for show.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows, sitting back on the hotel bed. “Wow,” he said, completely flabbergasted. “You’ve kinda blindsided me with this one, Tommo.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said, sitting down beside him. “I would’ve told you, it’s just that, well, I was scared. And kind of ashamed, you know.” Zayn waved him off. “No, don’t worry, I get it,” he said. “Just a little confused. Is it because you like guys?”

Louis bit his lip nervously. “Management actually doesn’t know that,” he admitted. Zayn looked at him curiously. “Then why-” he asked, struggling to find the words.

“When we were first signed, I overheard them talking about us,” Louis said, “They said they needed something to take eyes off of Harry. They didn’t want anyone knowing.” Zayn nodded. “They were going to stage a long term relationship for the public,” Louis explained further. “It came down between Harry and I to be the one with Eleanor. I volunteered at that point. I just didn’t want Harry to go through that, he already deals with so much. In retrospect, had I known what they would’ve done to Harry’s reputation, I wouldn’t have signed the contract,” he sighed, regret apparent in the tone of his voice. 

“It’s a contract?” Zayn asked. “For how long?”

“Three years,” Louis answered sadly. “God, Lou,” Zayn cried, “Are you ok?”

Louis sighed, pursing his lips. “I don’t know.” He said truthfully. “I don’t think any single one of them is alright. Not me. Especially not Harry,” he said. “Fucking Modest,” Zayn spat, rising from the bed. “This isn’t right, they can’t keep doing this.”

“Calm down, Zayn,” Louis said. “We’re the ones in trouble if we break contract. All we have to do is wait a couple years.”

“I don’t want to,” Zayn admitted. “I’m fucking tired.”

“I get that.” Louis said. He fisted his hands into tight balls, his nails digging into the skin of his palms. “Anyways, there’s more important things to do.”

Zayn nodded, licking over his lips. “Yeah,” he said. He looked again at Louis, sitting at the foot of the bed. His face contorted in confusion. “Do you like Harry? Don’t answer that,” he told Louis, who’d already parted his mouth to speak. “Course you do, you were asking him out of your imagination.” He held his hand up to his forehead, rubbing his eyes. “How long?” He asked. 

“A while,” Louis said. “I guess I liked him ever since I met him, but I didn’t realize it until later.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on his kneecaps. “He’s just- he’s amazing, you know?” Zayn nodded, smiling slightly. “It’s like, I think about him, and then everything’s alright, like he’s the cure somehow. And I didn’t tell anyone ‘cause I was scared. I didn’t know what anyone would think of me liking boys too,” Louis admitted. “I don’t even know myself. I mean, looking back, I’ve liked other boys, like, when I was a teenager. But I like girls too. I don’t know if that makes me bi, though.”

“That’s fine,” Zayn comforted him. “There’s no pressure to say what you are, or who you want to be with.”

“Thanks,” Louis said. “That means a lot.”

Zayn nodded, smiling. “Have you told anyone else?” He asked. Louis shook his head, pursing his lips. “Nobody,” he said. “Not even my mum.”

“Wow,” Zayn said. Louis laughed dryly. “Technically, you weren’t supposed to know.” He remarked. “It was kind of an accident.” Zayn pulled a face, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah,” he trailed off. “Sorry about that.”

Louis shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassured Zayn. “It kinda feels better, now that I’ve told someone.” Zayn nodded. “Are you gonna tell Harry?” He asked. 

Louis arched an eyebrow, laughing suddenly. “Of course not!” He said. 

“Why not?” Zayn asked. 

Louis snorted. “Are you kidding?” He said. “I’d probably die.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Zayn said. “I mean, don’t you want to be with him? Isn’t that the point of whatever you’re doing when I walked in?”

Louis shrugged. “I mean, I do want to,” he sighed. “I just don’t know what he’d think. I don’t even know if he’s into guys, or worse, he’s just not into me.”

Zayn looked at him sympathetically. “Mate, you’re gonna hate me for this, but grow a pair,” he said. Louis looked up at him sharply. “You don’t know until you ask him, ok?” He cried. “What if he is, and he’s waiting for you? Just promise me you’ll give it a try?” He asked Louis. 

Louis sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But not today.”

“Why not?” Zayn asked. 

“The meeting,” Louis explained. “I don’t want to pressure him after that.” Zayn nodded. “Ok,” he said. “But there’s always a chance he’ll like you back, just remember that.”

Louis nodded. “Ok,” he said. “I will.”

\---

Harry lay in his bed, late at night. His shirt was off, and he felt the blankets rub against his bare chest, tickling. He liked this; he felt free, but still hidden. He often wished he could go about shirtless, but he’d obviously never get to. Until he got surgery, at least. He couldn’t wait until the day he’d get to walk around, uncaring. He’d stand up straighter, smiling without faking it. He knew. He’d dreamed about that day many times. 

Maybe then, he’d be able to find someone who loved him for him, who he really was. When his body matched his soul, as stupidly poetic as that sounded, maybe then someone would love him. Even though it sounded impossible. 

It was nights like these that he let his mind wander. Insomnia was both a dear friend and his worst enemy, depending on how his moods changed and his thoughts were influenced by his emotions. On the bad nights, Harry relied on the tablets of Lunesta he kept in his bag. Tonight hadn’t proved to be anything but peaceful, at least on a relative scale. So instead of taking his sleeping pills, he just let himself think. 

He’d secretly started to look into surgeons who specialized in gender reassignment surgeries. His management didn’t know about it, but he’d talked to his therapist as well about it. He wished he could get to talk to her in person while they were touring, but he had to do with talking to her over the phone and journaling. She gave him a notebook, telling him to write down what he was feeling when he wasn’t available to come in for a session. He’d written about twenty pages in it, just like entries in a diary. 

He felt a lot of things. Even now, as he lay wide awake in the hotel bed, he felt things. Like the rapid beating of his heart against his chest, a constant reminder of his life. He was alive, despite his own efforts otherwise. It thumped like a drum, the rhythm of his existence playing into a song that was haunting, yet beautiful at the same time. 

It still didn’t change the fact that sometimes, Harry just wished the song would come to a halt.


	4. Three

Louis and Zayn sat side by side at the table, waiting patiently for everyone else to arrive. They’d gotten their food already from the breakfast buffet, the hotel food tasting mostly like overly sugared cardboard. They hadn’t talked about the previous day’s events and revelations quite yet, still a difficult subject to navigate for the both of them. But it was nice for Louis, at least he knew he had Zayn’s support. 

“So,” he said, trying to start a little conversation. “You excited for the performance today?” 

Zayn snorted. “Sure,” he chuckled. “But it’s probably just going to be more promo. I’m tired,” he complained, dropping his spoon into his bowl of cereal, the metal hitting the ceramic with a clinking noise. “I wanna sleep in.”

Louis nodded. He understood perfectly where Zayn was coming from. After all, they’d spent most of the night playing FIFA, and it was still early in the morning. So early in fact, that the sun had barely risen. The whole of the dining hall was deserted. In normal conditions, Louis would've been grateful that they were in a public place and not harassed by fans. But not at 6:30 in the morning. That was an ungodly hour to be up at, let alone getting ready for the day. 

As it had turned out, all Zayn had wanted to do yesterday was play video games and have a couple beers with Louis, but no, they had to have a fucking debate about sexuality and Harry. Honestly, Louis was still facepalming at his own stupidity. It was a careless mistake. He was grateful he’d made it, seeing as how supportive and happy for him Zayn was, don’t get him wrong, but he wished he could’ve been spared the fear and embarrassment of the entire situation. And he didn’t even say that ironically. He was genuinely terrified out of his wits. He’d always imagined coming out as this special thing. He’d get to choose the details; when, where, who and how. The why would have been made obvious already. But instead, he came out to his closest friend by making a mistake that was kinda stupid in the first place. He was definitely the first person he knew to trip out of the closet, fall flat on their face as they walked out. 

He sighed. At least he had Niall and Liam to tell. And Harry of course, but that was a little different. Not to mention his mum, and probably his sisters. And he was right back to being panicked. 

He was scared mostly that they’d think differently of him. Like they would automatically assume he was no longer the same. Another prospect chilled him to the bone; what if they didn’t accept him? Would they just pretend he hadn’t revealed his most vulnerable secret? Or would they ignore him completely, ignoring his calls and texts, like he didn’t even exist anymore. He’d just be a ghost in the very back corner of their imagination if that happened. 

An even scarier thing is he knew he’d still love them. Even if they didn’t. He still would. He just knew. He couldn’t ever stop loving his friends, much less his family, who’d cared for him for most of his life. Besides, it seemed a bit sad, really. You give your heart and soul to a child, raise them for the next eighteen years, only to turn your back if you admit you like your own gender. That was stupidity and prejudice at their finest. 

“Well,” he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “We’ve just got to get through, how many? Two interviews?” He asked, sleep fogging his memory of the details of their schedule. Zayn nodded. “We have the performance at one, and then we’ll go to the bus and we can sleep there. It’s nothing, really,” Louis glanced down at the clock on his phone. “Just nine hours.”

Zayn groaned. “I miss home,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “I wanna see my mum. Haven’t visited her in a while,” he admitted. “Shoulda called her last night.”

Louis rubbed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.” He reassured Zayn. “We’ll get back home eventually.” Zayn nodded, glancing up. “Well, look who’s finally here,” He smiled as Liam and Niall sat down with their plates of food. 

Niall shrugged apologetically. “Sorry,” he said. “I fell back asleep and we still had to pack up.”

“You had to pack up,” Liam reminded him. “I told you to last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” 

Niall batted a hand at him, bilking sleepily. He yawned, stretching his arms out as he did so. “God, I’m fucking tired,” he said. 

“That’s what we were talking about,” Zayn said, pointing between him and Louis. “We barely got sleep.”

“That’s why you don’t play FIFA all night, mate,” Niall said. “S’ your own fault, really.” Zayn rolled his eyes, taking a bite of toast. “Anyways, has Harry come down yet?” Niall asked. 

Louis shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t blame him, he had a rough day.” Liam sighed. “I feel bad,” He said. “I wish we’d done something.”

“What on earth could we have done?” Niall asked. Liam shrugged. “We could have said something. Told Alan to stop yelling at him,” He said. “We shouldn’t have just let him say that.”

“Wouldn’t have changed anything.” Harry said forlornly. All the boys turned around to watch him, sitting at the fifth seat. His head stayed bowed, his neck a curve as he stared down at the plate, steaming food piled on top. “Thanks for caring, but nothing would’ve been different.” 

“Do you believe that?” Liam asked. Harry stayed quiet. He seemed to just ignore Liam, brooding in his own thoughts as someone else changed the conversation. 

Louis sat, watching him. He’d never, not once in the entire three years he’d known Harry, seen him this despondent. He seemed tired, older than he really was. Like someone had taken him and aged him by ten years, or even twenty. He certainly didn’t act like he was nineteen. He had a weary energy to him, a slight annoyance at whatever radiating from his hunched figure. 

Louis just wanted to help him, but he didn’t know where he could possibly start. 

\---

Harry sat on the couch outside the studio. They’d completed their first interview, only adding to the headache he’d already been trying to coax away. He wished he could lie down, or change out of his shirt, but his pillow and suitcase were both packed away on the bus, ready to go as soon as they left their second interview. 

It was all the usual questions they’d been asked. This time, he was encouraged to smile more and seem more cheerful, like he could flip a switch and he’d just magically be happier in an instant. If he knew how to do that, trust him, he’d do it immediately. All he wanted was to feel better. Instead of the heavy feeling of all his secrets weighing him down, like a bag full of bricks slung around his shoulders. Maybe then he’d be able to stand up straight. 

Sighing, he pulled out his phone, dialing the familiar number. He placed his phone up to his ear, pursing his lips as he waited for her to pick up. His index finger traced a circle into the black denim of his skinny jeans, his thumb catching on the white hem of his shirt. 

“Hey Harry, what’s up?” She asked. 

“Hey, Trish.” He greeted her, smiling a little at her voice. “Nothing much, just needed to talk to someone.” 

“Rough day?” She asked. He nodded, saying, “Yeah. I’m really exhausted.”

“What time is it over in L.A?” She asked. “It’s eight here.” He felt a twinge of guilt, calling his therapist so late. “It’s about eleven,” he said, glancing at his clock. “About ten minutes til.”

“So what’s going on?” Trish asked, and Harry heard the small noises of her pulling out a pad and pencil, preparing to write down what he’d say. “Anything in particular happen?”

“Well, not today,” Harry said. “I just feel really tired.”

“Did you try taking a Lunesta last night?” She asked. 

“No,” He said, swallowing. “I didn’t think it would be needed.” He paused, drawing in a long, shaky breath. “I want to be able to sleep without one.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?” 

“Not until, like, midnight. Maybe a little after that.”

Trish hummed a little as she waited for Harry to continue, writing down some notes in the background. “I did an interview this morning,” he commented. 

“Did anything happen during that?” She asked. 

“Um, not really,” he said. “I just felt like I didn’t want to be there.”

“Where would you have rather been?” She asked. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess home. I miss my mum.”

“Have you tried calling her recently? It could help to talk honestly with her.”

“Yeah, um, I called her a couple of days ago, we had a nice talk.” He said, rubbing his nose. “We were talking about one of our songs, she liked it a lot.” He took in another breath. “I guess it’d be nice to see her in person.”

“Have you brought this up to your manager?” Trish asked. “Maybe you could ask for a small break off to see her.”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry lied. “They just said it’d be easier to hold off on a visit until the documentary is released.”

“Is there anything else you’d want to talk about?”

I don’t feel like I’m happy anymore and I want that to end, He thought. 

“No,” Harry said. “Thanks, Trish.”

“No worries,” she said. “Remember, you can call me anytime.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. “Bye.”

He hung up, sighing. He bit his lip, trying to take his mind off of it. He still didn’t feel good. It was a distraction, but nothing more. 

Sometimes, he felt like he was never going to be happy again.


	5. Four

Louis sat in the chair, feeling the drag of the makeup brush over his skin. Lou stood in front of him, touching up his face to be better suited for the camera and lights in the studio. She’d already slicked back his hair, fixing it with copious amounts of hair gel. He’d watched in silence the whole time, not wanting to stare at himself in the mirror during the hair and makeup process. Instead, he focused on her as she worked, or his eyes rested on the reflection of Harry in the mirror. 

Harry was currently getting fitted with an open chested button up, the neckline dipping down, revealing the bare skin of his chest. He slowly did all of the buttons, starting from the bottom and working his way to the top, concentrating silently. He stepped back when he finished, spreading his arms to show off the patterned shirt. His stylist sighed, reaching out with a finger and tapping at the very bottom corner of the V shaped collar, exposing the teensiest glimpse of the spandex binder, just barely darker than his actual skin tone. “We’ve got to do something about that,” she sighed, scratching her head as she thought. Harry pursed his lips, glancing down and trying to cover it. 

“Can we just leave it alone?” He asked.. “We could just say it’s an undershirt or something.” The stylist shook her head, making a clicking noise as her tongue hit against the backside of her teeth. Their manager walked over, her curiosity piqued by the exchange of words. “What’s going on?” She asked. 

“You can see his thing,” the stylist explained as she pointed, poking at the binder with the top of her index finger. Their manager, Shirley, sighed, biting her lip while she tried to think of a solution. Louis turned around from his seat, craning his neck to look at the three. He pursed his lips, swallowing as he spoke. “If it helps,” he offered, “I didn’t even notice it until you pointed it out.”

All three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. Harry shot him a look of gratitude, the stylist rolled her eyes in annoyance, and Shirly cooly arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Why don’t you stay out of this one, Louis?” She asked threateningly. She reached up, straightening her thick-rimmed glasses. “Well, try adding another button, see if you can cover it.” She told the stylist, before marching off towards the door. The stylist nodded, turning to Harry. “Let’s get this off, babes,” she sighed, reaching for her sewing kit. Harry nodded, resignedly reaching to undo all of the buttons, removing the shirt and handing it to her. 

Louis watched Harry as he went to go sit down on the chair in the corner. He didn’t even bother pulling on his T shirt from earlier, just sitting there in his binder, reaching up and snapping the tight elastic band. He was hunched over, staring straight at the ground beneath his feet. He didn’t even bother to look up, not when Niall came in, asking for help with his mic pack, or the stylists and assistants bustled around, offering their services and reminding the boys they had only ten minutes left before going onstage. 

There were so many things Louis wished he could have expressed to Harry in that moment. That he shouldn’t feel like he should have to cover up any trace of his chest, or that he was perfect, and valid. But no matter what, no matter how hard he tried to pick himself up and walk over to Harry, tell him everything he needed to hear, his feet wouldn’t move. His mouth remained closed. All the things he so desperately wanted to say would be kept a secret forever. 

Speak now or forever hold your peace.

“Alright, let’s try this,” the stylist said, bringing the shirt back over to Harry. He took the button up in his hand, pushing his hands through the shoulder holes, leaning over so he could fasten all of the buttons, including the one she’d just sewn on. After it was on, he took a step back, letting her examine her own work. 

She sighed, fingering the top button. “Shirley, come over,” she called. The manager walked back over to Harry and the stylist. She shook her head, clicking her tongue. “That won’t work, it’s too obvious,” she muttered. Harry sighed, a small whine coming from the back of his throat. Neither woman seemed to take any notice, to Louis’ relief. He could sense that they were just barely close enough away from an outburst. 

“Well, I can’t do anything about it now,” the stylist complained. “There’s only seven minutes.” Shirley sighed in frustration. “Fine, just find him another shirt.” She instructed, turning away on her heel at the sound of an assistant calling her name. 

Harry sighed, pursing his lips. His chin trembled, and his fists curled up into balls as he struggled to undo all the buttons on the shirt before throwing it to the side. He snatched whatever shirt the stylist handed his way, angrily pulling it over his head, messing up his carefully styled curls. Louis recognized the signs. Harry was trying to calm himself down, put on his fake smile before they went onstage. 

\---

“It was horrible.” Louis said. Liam, Zayn, and Niall all watched Louis intently as he recounted his story, listening with open ears. “He was so upset. And I wanted to do something, but I don’t know. I just couldn’t.”

“It’s not your fault,” Niall said. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.”

“But there was!” Louis cried, throwing his head back in frustration. “I should’ve said something, told them to stop treating him like that.”

“But you did,” Liam reminded. “You said you couldn’t even see the binder. That’s something.”

“I should’ve done more,” Louis insisted, angry with himself. He picked at the burger in front of him. They’d stopped at some random, greasy fast food joint before departing for the next city on the bus, but Harry had decided to just go straight to the bus, waiting for the four to return. “I feel like a coward.” Louis grumbled. 

“Well, I’m not sure I would have done any differently,” Zayn said, swallowing his bite. “I mean, even we don’t really understand Harry most of the time. And I’m not going to pretend I understand what it’s like for him to transition,” he added. “As much as I hate it, I just don’t understand.”

“Maybe we should ask him,” Liam mused. “Maybe we should try to understand.”

Louis nodded, licking his lips as he stared down at his plate. As much as he wanted to claim he was the ultimate ally of the transgender community, he didn’t even understand most of it half of the time. He did want to know more, for Harry. Maybe that was something they could talk about. 

“You alright, Lou?” Niall asked, looking over at the blue eyed boy. Louis glanced up, sighing. This would be as good a time as any to tell them, right? “Actually,” he said, clearing his throat, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk about with you two.” Zayn glanced over at him, his brown eyes a mixture of concern and sympathy. Louis nodded, pursing his lips as he struggled to find the words. He took in a deep breath. 

“I’m not dating Eleanor,” he said quickly. He figured it would be easier to start there, so they wouldn’t jump to conclusions like Zayn had. They looked at him in confusion. “What?” Niall asked. “I thought-”

Louis nodded as Niall stammered and Liam continued to stare in confusion. “She’s a beard,” he explained. “It means that I’m pretending to date her for publicity.” Realization spread throughout their expressions, their lips forming into o shapes. 

“Wait,” Liam said, putting down the near-empty wrapper his burger was in. “Are you trying to tell us-“

“I like guys,” Louis said, biting his lips nervously. His fingers tapped on the countertop, drumming out a shaky beat as he waited for a response from his friends. “Wow,” Niall said, smiling. “That’s great!” Louis grinned, relaxing. He’d been so worried, it was such a relief to hear that kind of response. 

“So, you’re gay?” Liam asked, out of curiosity, not disgust. “Actually, I’m not. Not really,” Louis said. Seeing the two’s confused faces, he clarified, “I’m still into girls. I just like guys too, but I’m not bi. It’s a little confusing, I know.”

“No, don’t worry,” Liam said, chuckling a little. “I understand. And you know,” he added, “we’ll always accept you. No matter what.” He smiled. “Promise.”

“That’s good,” Louis said. “Still haven’t told my mum.”

“Why not?” Niall asked. 

Louis arched a brow. “I’d prefer to tell her in person,” he explained slowly, letting it sink in. “I only found out a while ago, but we were already out of England.” Niall nodded, taking another bite of his cheeseburger. “So,” Liam said slyly, “Anybody you got your eye on?” 

Louis and Zayn shared a glance, and Louis rubbed at the back of his neck, scratching his head. “Actually, yeah,” he said awkwardly. “And I have to admit, Zayn found out the other day and it wasn’t the most straightforward experience, so I’ll just say it,” he explained looking around the table. Niall and Liam were looking at him intently, curiosity gleaming in their wild eyes. “It’s Harry,” Louis said, biting his bottom lip as he watched their jaws drop. 

“What?” Niall cried, his eyes widening. “Are you serious?” Louis nodded, looking nervously. It didn’t really matter too much in the long run, but it felt good to have their approval before Louis tried to make a move. 

Liam sighed in disbelief, cracking a grin. “Mate, that’s amazing, and I’m super pumped for you,” he said, making Louis smile. “But just remember, you break his heart, I’m coming for you.” 

Louis laughed heartily. “Thanks man,” he said. He turned to the three of them. “It means a lot that you lot are so supportive of this.” 

“Of course!” Zayn exclaimed, resting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “This is what we’re supposed to do. We have each other’s backs!” Liam and Niall clapped in agreement, and the four of them laughed. Even so, amidst all of the joy, and relief at the amount of support from his friends, Louis couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret and guilt. He wondered how Harry was holding up after yet another hard day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! I hoped you liked that chapter! This is one of my fav fics to write, and I’m so happy people are reading it!


	6. Five

Harry could feel the movement of the bus as he shifted in his bunk, pulling his blanket closer around him. He usually felt self conscious when he slept on the bus with the other boys, and it would appear that tonight was no exception. He didn’t know what it was, but he was literally terrified of them seeing him when his binder was off, even with a shirt over his chest. If he thought hard about it, it was justified to be self conscious, but for him, it was just like a literal phobia. So, he was always the last one to bed, and the first one awake. He’d mentioned it to his friends, and they of course respected him. He smiled sadly at the thought. They were great. He didn’t deserve their friendship. 

It was already past one in the morning, but he wasn’t tired at all. He knew he’d told Trish that morning that he would take one that night, but he didn’t honestly care. Let him have dark circles beneath his eyes, thoughts that terrified him and kept him up even longer. Nobody would even care. They probably wouldn’t have even noticed in the first place. Just like they hadn’t noticed what their own employees were saying about him. 

He rolled over, trying to get comfortable as he breathed in and out. Admittedly, it would have probably been a smarter idea to just suck it up and take one of his pills. But it was too late now. He didn’t want to get up without a better reason and risk waking them up. They’d be mad at him, they’d hate him. 

He lay on his back, listening to the sounds of the bus in the middle of the night. He could hear the occasional car passing outside, and the soft snoring of his friends in the dark of the night. He knew Zayn was in the bunk across from him, and Niall was in the one right beside his, and Louis was right below his. He smiled at the thought of Louis, the sleeping angel. He didn’t know all the things Harry wanted to say to him. Like how he was so grateful that he’d actually made an effort to call Shirley out earlier. Or how it was stupidly ridiculous how in love with him Harry was. 

Louis was perfect. Really, he was. His crystal blue eyes and soft hair, thin pink lips, perfect for kissing, he was Harry’s dream. He was perfect from his head to his toes. And he didn’t deserve someone like Harry. Someone who needed extra attention and was constantly about to reach his boiling point. Louis deserved someone beautiful. And Harry was certainly not beautiful. 

Harry had to hide his breasts under a tight spandex binder and layers of clothing, hoping to get them surgically removed one day. But even if he had the kind of body Louis was attracted to, that didn’t mean he would ever have a single chance with the only person Harry knew he truly cared about and loved. He knew, deep down in his soul, he was truly a boy, despite what was in between his legs. It was just hard to convince others of this fact. And Louis didn’t like boys.

Harry was very happy for Louis and Eleanor. They were perfect for each other. Louis was always more content to spend time with her instead of him. And Harry didn’t blame him. He would avoid himself if he could. He had to be the worst person to be around that he knew by a long shot. He honestly didn’t understand how he hadn’t been kicked out of the band yet. He knew that everyone hated him. 

If they didn’t, they wouldn’t let them get away with saying it. Even a few weeks ago, he had to be exposed to all sorts of bullshit, but still, nobody blinked an eye. In their defense, they might not have even been bothered enough to care. 

\---

“Anybody wanna play FIFA?” Niall asked, looking around the room. They’d all woken up early, and now they sat wearily. The bus driver had a delay when one of the tires blew, and now, they were waiting for it to be fixed as they sat in the living area, lounging around on the couches. Louis glanced up, one weary eye cracked open. 

“How are you awake?” He complained, reaching up with one hand to rub his eyes. “It’s too early for this.”

“C’mon, Lou, it’ll be fun,” Niall pleaded, sitting down beside him. Louis rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered, smiling as he sat up, grabbing a controller, fixating his eyes upon the screen.

He played a couple rounds with Niall before Liam and Zayn joined in, playing as well. They were so engrossed in the game, they managed to distract themselves the whole two hours it took to fix the busted tire. During that time, Louis would often glance over at Harry, who was continually growing more and more bored of their incessant yelling over each other, determined to win the game. He looked tired, eyes half-glazed over as he sat in the corner of the couch, behind the other four boys, wrapped up in his blanket, despite being fully dressed. He’d woken up an hour before the boys, even before the tire blew. He always seemed to get up ridiculously early whenever the boys were around. Louis always wondered what he was doing when he got up so early, but it wasn’t his business. He might have to do something medically, like for his transition or something. Louis knew Harry had to take his hormones somehow, he at least knew that. 

Even when they were back on the road, traveling as quickly as they could so they could make the venue in time for their concert that night, Harry looked bored out of his mind. Once the round of FIFA the boys had just played ended, Louis glanced over at Harry. Pursing his lips, he extended the controller with his hand, offering it to Harry, who took one glance at it before shaking his head. “No thanks,” he said, shifting in his seat. “You can keep playing.”

“No, please,” Louis said, “spend a little time with us.” Harry sighed. “You’ve been having fun so far, don’t let me ruin it.” He mumbled. Louis paused. At this point, the game had been paused, and all the boys were staring at them. 

“You won’t ruin anything,” Louis said cautiously. “Why’d you think that?” Harry shrugged. “You guys always seem to be having more fun without me,” he explained. “Why should I spoil the moment?”

The other four shared a glance. Something was definitely wrong. This was not the Harry they were accustomed to, who was always a great friend, always cheerful, no matter what. Even his mood swings weren't like this. “Listen, Haz, we want to hang out with you, you’ve just been distant as of late,” Zayn explained. Harry snorted. “Yeah?” He asked. “Bloody perfect then.”

“Don’t get mad at us,” Niall said. “Trust us, we want to be good friends, but you’ve been distant. S’ not our fault if you’d rather stay in the hotel.” Harry rolled his eyes, bunching the blankets up in his hands and throwing it off of himself. “I bet you think it’s so easy in my shoes,” he muttered. “I’m just on top of the world.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liam asked. Harry sighed, and for a moment, his chin trembled, but Louis seemed to be the only one who caught it. He recognized the sign, he’d seen it a million times. Whenever Harry was about to cry, or get upset, his chin trembled. Louis knew, because, regrettably, he had to admit, he’d been the one to cause this, more than one time. “Liam,” Harry started, sniffing slightly. “If you woke up tomorrow, and you were a girl, what would you do?”

Liam sighed. “Harry-” 

Harry shook his head, cutting Liam off. “Please answer it,” he demanded, his voice coming out shaky, sounding raw. Liam sighed, scratching his head. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I don’t know,” he repeated himself. Harry nodded. “So you kinda have an idea?” He asked. “It’s worse for me. I actually have to be in this body, and it’s not just a bad dream.” He gestured to his whole torso, his hands waving up and down, almost clawing at his chest. 

“But you have our support,” Niall said. Harry scoffed. “Where was that at the video shoot?” he asked dryly. 

Silence.

“What do you mean?” Zayn asked slowly. Harry swallowed hard. “At the shoot, a few weeks back, I heard some of the crew talking. About me,” he added to clarify. “They said-” He stopped himself, swallowing again. “They said I should have been the girl. Not you,” he said to Zayn. “They said I was a tranny.”

Again, the four remained silent as they took this in. Louis was completely and utterly shocked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, or that Harry had to hear that, and deal with it for weeks before he told anybody. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Harry nodded, swallowing again as his eyes began to glimmer with tears. 

“You’ll never understand what it’s like,” he seethed, “because you’re not actually trapped in your body. I have to look at myself everyday.”

With that, he got up from the couch, not another word coming from his ruby lips. He walked into the bunk room, closing the door behind him. The four shared a glance. They’d really fucked up this time.


	7. Six

Harry lay curled up in his bunk, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as they fell onto his pillowcase. One of his many secrets revealed, and he was a complete mess. It wasn’t even a big deal, he was just overreacting. They were just words. And words weren’t meant to hurt him. He’d lived through worse. He’d live through this. For a little while at least. He wasn’t sure how much longer, or if he could at all. Even now, his chest feeling heavier and tighter than ever before, his heart feeling torn into a million pieces, he felt like death would be an easier sentence than whatever hellish experience this was supposed to be. 

And he knew it was morbid to think about dying. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. Hell, he’d actually tried to die, and he’d almost succeeded. He’d given thought to what might have happened in the case that he’d succeeded. He just came up with nothing. His family would get over him. His mom and Gemma had each other. He barely talked to his dad.

It took a while for his dad to come to terms with his son’s transition, but he finally decided he wanted to be in Harry’s life after his thirteenth birthday. He’d gotten emotional when he saw Harry for the first time in at least three years, his hair shortened, wearing trousers and button ups. That was the happiest Harry remembered being. He was so naive, he believed everything would be ok from that moment forward. But then he started puberty, and his father’s tongue slipped often, calling him by his old name more than once, or introducing him as his daughter to his friends. Then, things were looking up after he’d gone on the X Factor. He’d been living as a male for two years legally, he met all the requirements for top surgery. But then, the band wanted to release an album, and then go on tour. And suddenly, it became an endless cycle of concerts and songwriting and touring, and Harry was starting to think he’d never get the chance to fully transition. 

He still remembered what it had been like to meet the boys. It was the first time he’d bonded so quickly with complete strangers, and none of them suspected a thing. Not even when they went back to his house to spend more time together, they hadn’t noticed a thing. It was only when they went to the judges’ house in Spain that one of them found out. That someone was Louis. And he was instantly very supportive, no explanations necessary. He covered for Harry until he felt comfortable enough to tell the others that he was trans, and he never once came close to letting it slip. The world needed more people like Louis. Harry needed someone like Louis. Or maybe he just needed Louis. 

And maybe he was selfish. He was only thinking of himself and his pain, he couldn’t even be bothered to hang out with his friends for more than a couple hours at a time. For a group that used to be closer than brothers, Harry was definitely straining the tension the most out of all of them. They wouldn’t want him around. Not now, not after his outburst. He pitied himself too much, they must hate him for being too damn whiny and selfish all the fucking time. 

He sniffed, another hot tear rolling down the side of his cheek, burning like fire against his flushed skin. He was lying as still as he could, almost asleep. He knew it would be wiser to get up and remove his binder just in case he fell asleep, but he didn’t feel very tired anymore. The dark circles beneath his eyes would contradict this, but he literally just had a gut feeling that tonight would be a bad night. Maybe he should take his pills tonight. Save his mind from the tortuous thoughts he’d inevitably put himself through. He kept crying, for no reason at all, because he was fine, really, he was. 

It wasn’t fair, everything happening to him in such a short span of time. At times like these, he sometimes just wanted his mum, but it was his own fault for not calling her when he had the time. She didn’t deserve the treatment she received from him. She’d been there for him time after time, and he couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone once in a while. He was a horrible son. And distancing himself from everyone, that just seemed to be the only solution. He was only hurting the people he was around. As long as he kept away from them, there was no chance he’d hurt any of them. 

He heard the door slide open, along with footsteps as the boys approached his bunk. “Hey,” Liam said softly behind him. Harry didn’t roll over. He kept facing the wall as Liam continued talking. “We just wanted to say we’re sorry, and that we shouldn’t have gotten upset,” He said. “But if somebody is saying bullshit about you, you need to tell us, ok? We want to help you.”

“And we aren’t always going to be able to understand everything,” Zayn added. “But we want to learn, and we want to help.” Harry sniffed, turning over to see them. Louis, Niall, Liam and Zayn all stood by his bunk, faces full of concern and sympathy. He swallowed. “How could you help?” He whispered.

“We want to support you,” Niall said. “Can you please just talk to us about it every once in a while?” Harry pursed his lips, sighing. He nodded slowly, to the relief of his friends. They smiled at them, and he smiled back, sadly. “Thanks,” Niall said. “Now, can we talk about the shoot?”

Harry bowed his head, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk as he sat up. 

“What did they say exactly?” Zayn asked. Harry sighed, trying to remember the details, the moment playing vividly in his eyes, almost like he was watching it happen all over again in real life. “I was just getting some water,” he said. “I think.” It had been hot in the button up and sweater vest he’d been made to wear, and he remembered feeling like he couldn’t breathe. “And two blokes were standing in the back corner, behind the cameras. They didn’t see me,” he added. “And they were talking loudly. They were saying they were surprised Zayn was made to be the girl, not the tranny.” He shifted awkwardly, all of a sudden very uncomfortable. “They didn’t even say my name. Alan was standing right there. He didn’t even do anything.”

“I’m so sorry,” Louis said, reaching for Harry's hand. The hairs at the back of Harry’s neck stood upright at Louis’ touch, and he had to take a breath, realizing this was real, Louis was actually touching him, looking up into his face with his perfect blue eyes. “They’re wrong, ok?” Louis told Harry. “You are so much more than that, ok? You’re perfect,” he added, and a blush tinged Harry’s cheeks pink as he pursed his lips. Even though he knew he wasn’t whatever Louis decided to lie about to him, he couldn’t help but smile at the complement. Louis smiled at him. “How are you feeling now?” He asked. 

“Better,” Harry answered, and for the first time, it wasn’t a lie.

\---

“Make some noise, Atlanta!” Liam yelled into the mic, the crowd screaming wildly in front of them as they ran around onstage. The track was playing loudly in the background, and Harry smiled at the video on his phone. Not even an hour after their concert’s end, and videos had already been posted online. Harry watched himself dancing around onstage, arms flailing wildly, his gangly limbs going all over the place as he stumbled around. 

He had a smile on his face in the video. Maybe it was the adrenaline from being on stage, or the need to convince the screaming fans that none of it was fake, when in reality, it was quite the opposite. He was no stranger to faking smiles and waving to fans, making them all believe the facade, smoke and mirrors. 

Although, he had to admit, their talk earlier had done its best to make him feel better. And to an extent, his friends had succeeded in raising his spirits. They’d even convinced him to go out to dinner with him, the first time he’d eaten all day. They were seated at a table in the very corner of a dingy fast food restaurant, eating greasy chicken fingers and fries. The food was mediocre in general, but did surprise Harry. He’d expected worse. 

He tried engaging in the conversations they were having, and he’d even managed to genuinely laugh at his friends’ jokes, finally having a good time. And even though he’d deny it, he kept stealing glances in Louis’ direction, watching the way he laughed his head off, flashing his perfect teeth in every single smile. And even once, their eyes met. Harry quickly glanced away, so Louis wouldn’t think he was staring, but there was no denying that for a second, Harry could imagine Louis loved him back. It certainly looked like he did.


	8. Seven

A few weeks later, and they were in LA, doing more press for the documentary. It was about to be released, only a couple months before the premiere. Their fans all around the world were eagerly awaiting the release of the film; Harry, not so much. A lot of his parts so far had been fairly scripted. Especially when he’d been going around his hometown. They’d made him change the narrative in his storytelling. He had to lie about his first kiss, saying that it was a girl he’d kissed on the bridge. He’d completely left out his stories from age nine to ten. Those were by far the worst years of his life. Well, besides right now. But he was definitely not going to talk about that. Especially since none of them knew about the roof incident. Not even the boys. 

But now, they were supposed to be having fun. So he could lie for as long as he possibly could, fake smiles for the interviews and paps and fans. He could do it all day if he had to. Which, to be fair, he’d probably have ended up doing anyway. 

He did his best to relax. Have fun. When he was little, he would’ve loved to come to LA. Not under these circumstances, but he could still try to enjoy it. 

So there they stood, walking into the studio for their interviews. Screaming fans surrounded them, pulling out their phones and taking pictures. Harry smiled at them, waving, and they noisily waved back, an almost incessant ringing in his ears. It got better once they had stepped inside, the clamor all of a sudden muffled by the barred doors. Harry glanced around the studio building, taking in its tall ceilings and white walls, it’s very architecture intimidating. He suddenly felt very small, despite towering an inch or two over most of his bandmates. He’d always felt a bit like his height wasn’t fair to the others, due to his testosterone injections. But they always managed to have a laugh out of it, so maybe it didn’t bother them too much. All the same, he always found a way to feel small and insignificant around them. 

They had nothing to hide. They were fearless. Harry wasn’t. He wished he was, but he couldn’t get over the paranoid feeling he always had when he woke up, even when he was alone in his hotel rooms. He felt well rested at the moment. He’d finally decided to bite the bullet and take a Lunesta last night, and for once, he slept peacefully. And he’d had the most wonderful dream. It had just ended too short. 

He’d dreamt that Louis finally left Eleanor behind, telling Harry he was the only one in his eyes. And yeah, it was too good to be true and cheesy as fuck, but who could blame Harry for wanting his fairytale ending, just like the one Eleanor was inevitably going to get?The worst part was that he was so close to finally having that perfect first kiss with Louis, their lips finally meeting in the soft evening glow, their shadows cast on the opposing wall- and then Harry woke up. Inches away, and yet so far. He’d never get that, he knew. 

Still, he hated the prospect of falling in love with anyone else. It was stupid. Somehow, he knew that he’d never be happy with anyone else. It was just a gut feeling. He’d rather be unhappy and watch Louis with Eleanor than be unhappy with somebody. PLus, he’d just hurt them. They could never measure up to Louis, and he’d just be using them, and nobody deserves to be treated like that, like a shiny toy to be played with, only new for a month. And if Harry was alone for the rest of his life, he was surprisingly alright with that. He didn’t figure he’d live to be very old, anyways.

“Alright, Harry, switch of plans,” Alan said. Harry perked up, listening. “You won’t be doing the interview later with Louis, you’ll be doing it with Niall instead.” Harry raised a brow. “Excuse me?” He asked. “Is there any reason?”

Alan glanced around, making sure nobody was within earshot. Louis was chatting with the rest of the boys, grinning about whatever they were talking about. “Well, if you ask me, your fans- ‘larries,’” he rolled his eyes as he used air quotations, “they’ve been going wild lately. We’re just trying to keep the rumors squashed. Got it?”

Harry pursed his lips, but he nodded, sighing. “Have you told Louis?” He asked. Alan nodded. “He knows,” he said. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, his voice hushed as he beckoned Harry to lean in to hear what he was about to say. Harry hesitated, but he leaned in despite his reservations. “Don’t think I’m stupid,” Alan warned Harry. “I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at him.”

Harry’s blood ran cold, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I’ll let it slide for now, but don’t think I’ll forget it. Must be hard for you, a tranny and a fag,” he spat, turning on his heel, leaving Harry standing by himself, suddenly very afraid. 

He felt terrified. Scared out of his wits and trembling, he did his best to breathe steadily, in and out as he swallowed hard, melting the lump in his throat.

“Hey, Harry!” Zayn called, running over to him. He blinked, dashing away the prickling feeling at the corners of his eyes. “We’re about to start, you ready?” 

Harry nodded, licking his lips. “Yeah,” he said. Zayn grinned. “C’mon then,” he said, grasping Harry’s wrist and pulling him over to the cameras and lights, all set up specifically for the interview. Harry plastered another smile onto his face as he took his seat in the front row, right in between Zayn and Niall. Louis and Liam sat in the back, grinning. Harry did his best to match the mood in the group. It was hard, knowing yet another piece of information that nobody else did. It didn’t make him feel special. In fact, he kinda felt pretty shitty, losing focus often. He let the others take charge of the interview, doing his best to laugh along with their jokes as his mind slipped in and out of paying attention.

There were several questions into the interview when the interviewer paused, rearranging her cards, smiling down at the questions. “Now, these are a few questions that your fans suggested,” she explained. Louis arched an eyebrow, grinning. “Really?” He asked. “This should be interesting.” Harry chuckled genuinely, covering his mouth partially with his outstretched fingers. 

“Alright, first: if you could choose anyone to play you in a movie about your life, who’d you choose?” She asked, flashing her perfect smile as she did. 

“David Beckham,” Liam answered, not even thinking about it. “Does he act?” The interviewer asked, chuckling slightly. “I think he does,” Liam said, “maybe I’m wrong. Oh well.”

The interviewer shook her head, glancing back down at her cards, raising an eyebrow at the next question. “Oh, this is a good one,” she said, clearing her throat. The boys listened as she read, “If you were a girl for a day, what would you do?”

Harry stared at her, blinking several times. This was a question usually blacklisted from their interviews. He glanced over to the side as Zayn answered, locking eyes with Alan. The manager shook his head vehemently, giving a warning glare in Harry’s direction. The boy swallowed hard, turning back around just in time to hear, “Harry, what do you think?”

He must’ve gaped at her for at least five seconds, his brain scrambling for an answer. “It’s hard to tell,” he said, laughing nervously. “I really don’t know.”

“Well, Niall says he’d probably stare at his boobs,” the interviewer laughed. Harry glanced over at Niall, who shrugged as Harry arched a brow. He mouthed ‘ _ sorry,’  _ and Harry nodded, as if to say he understood Niall’s intentions. “I mean, yeah, I guess,” he laughed. 

The interviewer kept going, asking all of the fan-suggested questions, but Harry barely paid attention after that. He knew , for certain, that bit would probably end up being cut out of the interview, one of the perks of pre recording these interviews. Another thing he knew for certain: Alan certainly would never stop holding this over his head. 

—-

Louis grinned as they walked down the sidewalk, security on all sides of the boys, protecting them. He wore sunglasses that he’d bought from a nearby stand, letting them rest on the bridge of his nose. He felt happier than he had in awhile. Their documentary was coming out soon, their album would follow that shortly, and Louis was really excited for the fans to hear the songs. He’d written most of them, along with Liam, and he was actually proud of his own work for the first time. It was an interesting feeling, to be proud of yourself, but Louis really felt like he could do anything. 

A couple of their security guards stopped, and so did the boys. Louis glanced up, recognizing the building they were in front of, oddly familiar. Harry smiled, waving and thanking the guards, walking towards the hotel entrance. “Wait,” Louis called. Harry turned back around, his beautiful green eyes locking with Louis’. “Aren’t you gonna come with us? We were going to get ice cream, I thought,” Louis added, smiling warmly at the younger boy. 

Harry shrugged in response. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I’m just tired. Long day.” Louis nodded. He wasn’t going to make Harry do anything he didn’t want to do, after all. “Ok,” he told Harry. “Hope you get some rest.”

Harry smiled, nodding at Louis as he walked into the hotel, immediately headed for the elevator. Louis smiled at him as he left, and the band continued their walk to the ice cream parlor. Suddenly, Zayn swatted at the back of his head. “Ow!” Louis cried, rubbing at the injury. “What the fuck?”

“Mate, that was your shot!” Zayn cried, waving back at the hotel entrance. There was now the safe distance of about a hundred feet between them and the hotel, almost a block away at this point. “Go,” Zayn urged. “This is your chance.”

“What do you mean?” Louis cried. “I can’t! Not now,” he added glancing around at Liam and Niall, who both only appeared to be fully supporting what Zayn was saying. Louis sighed, almost whining like a child. “What if I make everything worse?” He asked. 

“Tommo, I love you, but you’re pretty fucking daft sometimes,” Niall laughed. “Have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s so fucking obvious, you’re just oblivious.”

Louis pursed his lips. “Do you really think that?” He asked. Niall snorted. “I know,” he reassured Louis. “Now go, get your man!” 

Louis grinned, glancing back at the hotel entrance. He had to admit, they had a point, and they were right. This would be the perfect opportunity to ask Harry, and the worst thing that could happen would be him rejecting Louis. Which would devastate him, but he’d probably be able to bounce back after many tears and long nights. Biting his lip nervously, he waved his goodbye to them as he turned, waving briskly back in the direction of the hotel. He heard the boys applauding him, but he was too concerned to think about anything else besides how he’d phrase his grand speech. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exciting things happening next chapter!!


	9. Eight

Harry sat on the bed, facing the big glass doors, the balcony just extending a couple feet outside of them. He’d opened one of the doors, watching the sheer curtains getting blown around by the gusts of wind. It was poetic, in a way, watching the curtain get tossed around, never being allowed to say still, even for a minute. To be completely honest, it was kind of a metaphor for his situation. He was constantly thrown around, words like curses hurled his direction. 

He’d been pretty shaken up by the interview earlier. Especially when he’d been asked about being a girl. Or what he’d do if he was a girl for a day. And in all honesty, Harry knew that he’d probably end up hurting himself again. Like that day on the roof. 

He’d tried so hard to block out the memories, but they were all coming back to him now. He remembered he’d been crying, big fat tears streaming down his face. The shingled tiles of the roof scratched his legs, gravely against the smooth pale skin. He knew damn well that everything could have ended right there, sweet-tasting relief within ten feet away. He soon found that the closer he got to the edge, the less and less he cared if he actually went through with it. And as much as it would hurt the people who loved him, they’d get over him. So he stood up. He leaned over the edge, waiting for it to be finished.

And yeah, seeing the way his life had taken a turn for the better, he was grateful he’d lived. At least that long. If he’d died that day, he wouldn’t have ever met the best friends he’d ever have. He would’ve never gotten to transition, and be himself completely, and he would’ve been buried with the wrong name on his tombstone. He’d never have met Louis. 

But now, that promising relief was tempting him again. Everything could be over, done with. He’d never have to hear  _ “tranny”  _ or  _ “fag”  _ again. 

Before he could even process what he was doing, he was standing out on the balcony, his hands gripping the railing. He stared down on the streets below, a few stories between the ground and him. All he would have to do was climb over the edge. A gust of air blew into his face, blowing back the curls, reminding him that this was real. He was standing there, every intent to jump. 

Had he not heard the knock at the door, he might’ve actually gone through with it. He turned around, walking across the room to open the door for whoever was there, but he made sure to close the sliding door behind him. He crossed the room, passing the bed and his suitcase, and opened the door, revealing Louis, standing in front of him, much to Harry’s confusion. “Hello,” he said to Louis, chuckling a bit. “What happened to getting ice cream?”

Louis bit his bottom lip, appearing very nervous. “Can I come inside?” He asked. Harry nodded, standing back to let Louis pass through. He closed the door after Louis came in, watching as the blue eyed boy sat on the bed, uninvited, but that didn’t matter. Harry looked at him as he took a deep breath in. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Louis said. “For a while now,” he added. Harry sat down beside him, listening with baited breath. Louis pursed his lips. “Well, um, I was going to ask..” he stammered, trailing off. Harry nodded, beckoning for him to go on. 

To be honest, he had no fucking clue as to why Louis was being so vague. After so long, suddenly they were in a room alone, and he was speechless, stuttering with fear. It made no sense. Harry just wished he’d get to the point already, and it wouldn’t be something that would just end up hurting Harry more. Louis sighed in frustration, rising from the bed and walking over to look out the glass doors. 

“It’s not easy for me to say everything I want to say,” He explained, not looking at Harry. He stared out into the sunny glow of the late afternoon, rubbing the back of his neck like it would give him strength. “I tried asking for advice from the boys, they just gave me some  _ ‘speak from the heart’  _ bullshit, don’t see how that helps,” he told Harry. I guess it just took a while to figure out what I was going to say. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say this,” he added, turning back to look into Harry’s eyes, sitting back down beside him. Their hands were so close together, their fingertips almost meeting. Harry glanced down at them, swallowing nervously. This was the closest he’d ever felt to Louis. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me?” Louis asked nervously, and Harry swore he’d almost gasped. He sat quietly, trying to let the whole situation sink in. Louis was right in front of him, asking him on a date. And it wasn’t asking him to dinner, it was a date specifically, like a romantic thing. And while it was his absolute dream, Louis was already taken. He didn’t want to be the one to ruin Louis and Eleanor’s relationship. So as hard as it was, he had to tell that to Louis. 

“Louis, listen,” Harry said, watching Louis’ face slowly fall. “I want to, but I can’t. You can’t do this to El, you can’t.”

Louis arched an eyebrow in confusion, before realization seemed to sink in. “No, Harry, wait,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m not dating El,” he explained. Now it was Harry’s turn to be confused. “Did you break up?” He asked. Louis shook his head, chuckling. “I never dated her,” he said, resting his hand on Harry’s. “She’s a beard,” he added, and suddenly, everything made sense. 

“What?” Harry asked, feeling his throat dry up. He couldn't believe this, it was just like his dream, this was really happening, dear Lord. “You’re not lying,” he said, taking a shuddery breath. Louis nodded. “Yeah,” he said, smiling nervously. He was beautiful even when he was scared. 

Harry swallowed. “So, dinner?” He asked. “Like, candles and everything?” Louis smiled in relief. “I mea, if that’s what you want, then yeah,” he said, pursing his lips, forming his mouth into a thin line. Harry’s chin trembled, suddenly overcome with emotion. Tears brimmed his eyes, and Louis suddenly reached for him, steadying his shaking body. “What’s wrong?” He asked, blue eyes full of concern. Harry shook his head. “Why me?” He asked. “I’m not enough,” he explained, a tear gathering in the corner of his green eye, threatening to spill out onto his rosy cheek. Louis swallowed, holding the back of Harry’s head as he leaned in, connecting their lips. 

And it was perfect. 

Harry couldn’t believe that this was happening, his dream literally came true. Louis’ lips crashed against Harry’s, soft and warm and perfect. And for a minute, nothing else mattered. The voices in the back of Harry’s mind stayed still, silent for the first time in his life. “Harry,” Louis whispered his name like a secret. “You’ve always been enough,” he promised. 

Harry smiled, pursing his lips. “So, is it a date?” Louis asked nervously. Harry laughed. “Yeah,” he said, grinning. Louis smiled brightly. Harry laughed again, reaching up to wipe away the tears. “Management’s gonna kill us,” he chuckled. Louis laughed. “They will,” he agreed, rising from the bed. “Should I come back up at seven?” He asked. Harry nodded. “Sounds good,” he said. 

“Can’t wait,” Louis said, grinning as he turned to leave. Harry smiled as he left, hearing him run down the halls, definitely triggering some complaints from the neighbors. He smiled to himself, taking a deep breath. 

He could do this. 

He could. 

\---

Louis smiled as they walked down the street, hand in hand. Finally. This was what he’d always wanted to do. And Harry was so beautiful. He’d put on a button up, very classy looking, and his nice slacks. Louis had tried to find something nice to wear, but Harry definitely blew it out of the water. 

It was darker, late at night. Their date was nice, just a little hole in the wall Italian place. Nobody even recognized them. Barely anybody was even there, which was nice, allowing for privacy. Harry was entranced by the beautiful glow of the candles on the table and the little crystal glasses of red wine. He’d never look more stunning. Louis was absolutely star struck. He had yet to tell the boys about his successful attempt at asking Harry out, but that could wait. All he cared about right now was the beautiful boy beside him, holding his hand in public without a care for the first time.

The hotel entrance was just a block away, but they walked slowly, spending as much time as they could with each other. If it was up to Louis, he’d drag out this magical moment for as long as he could. “So,” he started, a slight smile on his lips. “That was nice.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Can’t wait for the next one.”

“There’s going to be another one?” Louis asked, a little surprised. Harry glanced at him nervously. “Well, I thought- was it bad?” He asked, biting his lip. Louis shook his head. “No, no, I didn’t mean it that way,” he clarified. “I’m glad you want to go on a second date.” Harry blushed. “This was the most fun I’ve had in awhile,” he sighed in content. 

“That’s nice to know,” Louis said, smiling. He squeezed Harry’s hand as they walked up to the big glass doors of the hotel, into the grandiose building. For the rest of the walk to Harry’s room, they walked in quiet, only sharing glances and smiles. Louis insisted on taking Harry all the way up the seven floors, wanting to be a true gentleman and make sure he was safe until he was in his room. 

They reached the hardwood door, and Louis paused, letting go of Harry’s hand. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time,” he said, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But just as he turned to walk back down the hallway, he heard Harry say, “Wait, please.” Louis turned back around, facing Harry, who was biting his lip nervously. Harry licked his lips as he shifted nervously. “Could you stay with me tonight?” He asked. Louis opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. “I had a long day, and I don’t wanna be alone tonight. Please,” he added. Louis pursed his lips, but ended up smiling.

“Of course,” he answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all enjoy reading this!! i love seeing your comments, so please don't be afraid to leave your thoughts down below. i love you guys!!


	10. Nine

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. Louis watched him as he peeled off his own shoes and socks from the chair in the corner. He hadn’t gone back to his room, but Harry reassured him that it was alright to just sleep in his boxers. He didn’t mind. He slipped the button up off of his shoulders, exposing his binder to the cold air. He swallowed hard, glancing over at Louis. He took a deep breath, before asking, “Is it ok if you look away for a minute?”

Louis nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said, covering his eyes and looking straight down at the ground. Harry smiled, grateful. Louis was nice. He was respectful. He didn’t even try to glance up, catch a peak of Harry’s bare chest. Harry grabbed his sleeveless shirt quickly, pulling it over his head. For a second, he paused. This would be the first time Louis had ever seen him without a binder on. The soft curve of his chest made a bulge in his shadow, a smooth, circular shape on his otherwise flat chest. They were even that big, just obvious, and he hated it. 

“You can look now,” he said, getting up from the bed and reaching for his belt buckle. He kicked off his boots while he was working with unbuckling his belt, and Louis glanced up, seemingly unbothered by the sight. Harry swallowed, hiding his smile. He didn’t deserve someone like Louis. He was too good for Harry. 

He dropped his pants to the floor, wrapping around his ankles. He stepped out of them, one foot at a time, standing in just boyshorts, loosely fitting over his thin frame. “I’m going to brush my teeth,” he said, and Louis nodded, making sure not to gape at Harry’s body. This was the time of day Harry hated the most. He hated his body, the way he had to stare at himself in the mirror, washing it in the shower. He hated looking like a girl beneath the binder and skinny jeans. He was reminded about it every time he had to get dressed, or when he went to bed, or visiting the gynecologist for examinations. 

He reached for the kit inside his suitcase, holding it in his right hand as he walked to the bathroom. He set the red kit onto the counter, reaching for his toothbrush by the sink. He brushed his teeth carefully, picking the bits of pasta out of the gaps between them. Glancing around, he carefully unzipped the kit, pulling out the syringe and measuring his dosage. Technically, he should’ve taken his injection last night, but it was late and he didn’t want to do it on the tour bus. 

Carefully, he held it up to his hip, inserting it slowly. He pressed down, injecting the contents inside his bloodstream. He sighed, pursing his lips. He’d used to hate it, but as he kept doing it, it grew easier. That didn’t mean he didn’t want a distraction every now and then from the tiny stinging feeling, his mind frantically anticipating much worse pain. He pulled the syringe out, packing it up like he’d done a million times before. 

“Is that your hormones?” Louis asked, making Harry jump at the sudden sight of him in the doorway.. “Christ, Lou,” he said shakily. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” 

“Sorry,” Louis said, biting his lip nervously. Harry shook his head, smiling a bit. “Don’t worry,” he said, zipping the kit back up and picking it up. He walked past Louis, kneeling in front of his suitcase and replacing it. “And yeah, it was.” He said, closing his suitcase. “I have to take injections every so often.”

“What happens if you don't?” Louis asked curiously, sitting down on the plush bed. “Well, I could get my cycle,” Harry said, sitting down beside Louis. “You mean-” Louis started. 

“A period.” Harry finished, nodding. He pursed his lips. “Don’t want that,” he added, raising his eyebrows. Louis nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind my questions.”

Harry shook his head, smiling. “No, don’t worry,” he said, grinning. “I actually kind of like it. Nobody ever asks me anything, so it’s nice to get you educated, I guess.” Louis chuckled, thinking as he bit his lip. “Ok,” he said, crossing his legs and sitting up. “Your binder. Why do you take it off at night?”

“I can’t have it on for longer than eight to ten hours,” Harry explained. “Twelve at most. It can cause lung problems,” he added. “And I already have asthma, so I don’t need anything else on my plate.” Louis nodded, taking in the information. “Any other questions?” Harry asked, leaning in closer to Louis, who smirked a little, blushing at the thoughts in his mind. “Can I kiss you?” He asked. Harry grinned. “Always up for that,” he said, leaning in. 

Their lips melted together, passionately. It was the first time Harry had been kissed like this, Louis’ tongue gliding across his bottom lip. It felt so right. And he could still barely believe his eyes. Louis was the one kissing him, and everything Harry had thought about Louis for the past three years was a lie, and his dreams were coming to life, like it was meant to be. Louis’ hands roamed his body, one hand cupping the side of Harry’s face, caressing his cheek, the other sinking down to his waist, resting on the smooth skin of his hip, left bare where the tank top had been hiked up. His thumb ran over the soft, pale skin, making Harry shudder at the touch. It was a good feeling. Louis’ hands felt like they belonged there. Harry leaned deeper into the kiss, so close that their thighs touch. He might as well have sat in Louis’ lap. 

“Wait,” Louis said, pulling back. Harry looked at him, cheeks flushed and blue eyes glazed over in lust, saliva coating his lips. Louis swallowed, asking, “Do you want to take this further?” He asked nervously, and Harry swore he felt something down in his core. He took a breath, nodding. “Why?” He asked. “Is this your first time or summat?” Louis shook his head, but then thought for a minute. “I mean, with a guy, it’s my first,” He explained.

“I mean,” Harry said, gesturing to his chest. “Not really with a guy.” Louis shook his head, arching a brow in confusion. “You’re a boy, though,” he pointed. “So it is my first time with a boy.”

“Ok,” Harry said, chuckling breathlessly. He blushed a little. It wasn’t meant to sound like a complement, but the fact that Louis actually considered him a boy after seeing him without his binder meant a lot. “What about you?” Louis asked. “Have you ever done this before?”

Harry bit his lip, nervously shaking his head. “No,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’ve sucked off a guy before, but no other experience, really.” Louis nodded, taking his words into consideration. “I mean, Harry, it’s your first time,” he said. “I want you to be completely sure that you want to do this.” Harry nodded. “I am, trust me,” he reassured Louis. “And I want to do this with you.”

Louis nodded. “Ok,” he said. “We can. Have you ever had anything up there?” He asked, cursing himself for not phrasing it better. Harry thought for a minute. “I mean, not where you think,” he admitted. “I’ve tried the other way, s’ pretty nice.”

“Do you want to do that?” Louis asked. Harry nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.” Louis nodded, grinning as he leaned back in for a kiss. Their lips crashed together, moving together just like before, but it was different this time. More heated, more passionate. And holy shit, Harry couldn’t believe he was actually about to have sex. 

He let himself be leaned against the soft comforter of the bed, Louis moving over him. His hands moved back to their places before, one at his waist, kneading the soft skin within his strong grip. His fingers played with the hem of Harry’s shirt, pulling up. Harry let go suddenly, his hands reaching for Louis’ to stop him. 

Louis glanced down, dropping the shirt instantly. He must have been wondering what on earth he’d done wrong. Harry swallowed nervously. “Can I leave it on?” He asked, biting his bottom lip. “I hate how it looks,” he added. Louis nodded. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

Harry grinned again, reaching back up to kiss Louis. They resumed like they hadn’t been interrupted in the first place, the very air between their bodies heating up. Louis’ hand dropped down from his shirt, leaving it be. Instead, he groped his bum, cupping the smooth shape in his hands. Harry moaned into Louis’ mouth, the contact sending overwhelming waves of pleasure throughout his body. He reached in between Harry’s legs, rubbing his fingers against him, the cloth separating his fingers from Harry’s sex. Harry gasped at the touch, biting his lip to keep himself from moaning aloud. 

Louis leaned down, his head hovering in between Harry’s legs. He reached up, hooking his fingers under the elastic band of Harry’s shorts. He looked up, and Harry nodded, giving him permission. Pulling the shorts down, he peeled the fabric off of Harry’s sweaty body, off of his ankles. Harry watched as Louis moved back in between his legs after tossing the shorts to the floor. His hot breath felt amazing against Harry, and he kept having to fist the sheets, stifling his moans. Louis leaned in closer, his nose nestling in the curly hairs down there, mouthing around Harry’s clit, pressing a kiss to the sensitive nerve. 

Harry moaned loudly, shuddering at the feeling. Louis glanced up at Harry, locking eyes as he licked at Harry’s slit, from bottom to top. His tongue swirled around the clit, and his hands wrapped around Harry’s thighs, steadying himself as he licked and kissed between Harry’s legs, Harry gasping each time Louis nipped at his silky smooth thighs. 

He felt a warm feeling build up right in between his legs, and all of a sudden, a release. He shuddered as he rode the feeling out, rubbing against Louis’ tongue. “Fuck,” he cried, breathing heavily. Louis looked back up at him, rising from between his legs. “Do you still wanna?” He asked. Harry nodded, eyeing the prominent bulge in Louis’ boxers. “Definitely,” he grinned cheekily. Louis smirked, reaching down to pull down his boxers. His cock slapped against his stomach, looking almost painfully hard, flushed red, little bubbles of precome beading at the slit. “Do you have lube?” He asked. Harry nodded. “It’s in the little side pocket,” he said, “I think.” Louis leaned over the side of the bed, reaching into the pocket and pulling out the bottle of lube, only a fraction of it used. “What about condoms?” He asked, popping the cap of the bottle open. Harry shrugged. “Don’t really need ‘em, do we?” He asked. Louis arched a brow. 

“It’s always good to be safe,” he said. Harry pursed his lips. “I mean, I’m clean,” he said. “What about you?”

“I haven't gotten tested in a while,” Louis admitted. “I’d just feel safer if I wore a condom. Ok?” He asked. Harry sighed, nodding. “I think I might have one in my wallet,” Louis said, getting up, picking up his pants and fishing through the pockets for his wallet. He opened it up once he found it, pulling out the foil-wrapped condom. He set it down by Harry’s legs, picking the bottle of lube back up, drizzling it over his fingers. Gently, he probed the rim of Harry’s hole, getting the area around wet enough. He teased as he did, making Harry whimper. “Please, Lou,” he whined. Louis smirked smugly, working the finger into Harry’s entrance. He wiggled it around in circular motions, making sure Harry was loosened up enough. Slowly, he added another finger, scissoring them, and Harry moaned at the feeling of being stretched open. Soon, Louis was wiping his fingers on the sheets, ripping open the condom’s wrapper with his index fingers and thumbs. He rolled it on, pinching at the top, before slicking himself up with the lube. He settled in between Harry’s legs, rubbing himself against Harry’s slicked hole. 

“Ready?” He asked. Harry nodded frantically, biting his lip as he spread his legs wider. Louis glanced down, using his hand to guide himself into Harry’s tight heat. Harry gasped as he pushed in, feeling stretched and full in ways he couldn’t describe. “You good?” Louis asked panting. “Yeah,” Harry said. “Just a little pressure.”

“Do I need to pull out?” Louis asked, and Harry shook his head. “No, don’t worry, just give me a minute,” he said, letting himself get used to the feeling. After a few long moments he nodded, and Louis slowly began to rock their hips back and forth, thrusting gently. Harry’s eyes began to water, and he wrapped his arms around Louis’ broad shoulders, his fingernails digging into the skin, but only slightly. “Faster,” he pleaded, and Louis nodded, picking up the pace. 

He thrust into Harry, making the whole bed shake. Their chests rubbed against each other, separated by the thin cotton tank top. Harry kept biting his lip, almost drawing blood, to keep from moaning. He had to keep reminding himself that there were people who were trying to sleep, not to mention Liam was rooming only two doors down the hallway. He didn’t want to hear about this in the morning. 

Louis was breathing heavily against Harry’s shoulder, and he reached down between their bodies, playing again with Harry’s clit. His fingers toyed with the slit, slipping in and scissoring them inside of Harry. The green eyed boy cried out, coming for the second time that evening. Louis was quick to follow, emptying into the condom. He slowed down his thrusts before he came to a complete stop, pulling out of Harry slowly. 

He chucked the used condom into the bin by the bedside, before collapsing beside Harry. Both of them lay in complete silence, their gasps for air breaking the silence of the hotel room. Harry swallowed. “That was fucking brilliant,” he cried, grinning. Louis smiled, looking up at Harry. “I’m guessing that was good,” he mused, leaning into Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah, Harry said. “Thanks for being my first.” 

“No problem,” Louis said, his eyelids fluttering shut. They didn’t bother moving. Instead, they just lay there, Harry half-naked, Louis fully in the nude. When they fell asleep, the lamp light was still on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this confused anyone, remember that harry does identify as a man, but he hasn't transitioned fully, therefore he has female genitals. i hope you liked this


	11. Ten

Louis felt the bed dip beneath him, the weight suddenly shifting as Harry left his side. His eyelids fluttered open, blinking at the sudden brightness of the room. He soon focused, eyes lingering on Harry’s freckled back, watching as he pulled the tight binder over his head, smoothing it down until it was fully stretched over his chest. He smiled, lifting his head off of the plush pillows. The comforter shifted, falling off of his chest. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice laced with exhaust from the early hours. Harry turned around, smiling at Louis. “Hey,” he said, sitting back down on the bed. “Good morning,” he whispered, leaning across and brushing Louis’ tousled hair out of his eyes. Louis arched a brow, his gaze resting on Harry’s curls, tangled wildly, the very definition of ‘sex hair.’ 

“Morning,” Louis sighed, sitting up even more. “How are you feeling?” 

“Pretty good, actually,” Harry said. “Thought I’d feel more guilty, to be honest.” Louis chuckled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his boxers on the bed. “Let me guess, ‘hard to face mum’ kind of guilt?” He asked, pulling his underpants up his legs. “Yeah, I guess,” Harry said. “But at least I’m not gonna die a virgin.”

Louis laughed, shaking his head. He stood up, walking over to where he’d taken off his clothes the night before. He grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head. “You’re sure that was alright?” He asked nervously, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. “Wasn’t too rushed?”

Harry shook his head, smiling as he pulled a fresh shirt over his head. “No, don’t worry,” he reassured Louis. “It was nice. Better than nice,” he grinned, winking cheekily. “I see why people do it now. They don’t lie,” he added, rearranging his cross necklace. “But thanks. You’re nice. You actually care,” he said, leaning down and pulling his boots on. He straightened his laces. “Not many people do.”

Louis pursed his lips, nodding. “Well, I hope we get a chance to do all that again.” He said, brushing a piece of lint off his shoulders. “Do you wanna get dinner again?”

Harry nodded, smiling as he grabbed his key card. “What if we ate in?” He suggested, eyebrows arched. Louis smiled. “‘Course,” He laughed. “Anything for you.”

Harry pursed his lips, walking over and wrapping an arm around Louis, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to his soft lips. Louis smiled, melting into the kiss. He felt like he could do this forever. Harry’s plump, soft lips feeling like a pillow against his own. He could clearly smell Harry’s shampoo, coconut scented, and his rosy perfume. He certainly hoped he’d get to do this forever. However, he was still unsure of where their relationship stood now. They certainly weren’t just friends, not anymore. Not after last night. But they weren’t quite boyfriends. They were dating, Louis thought that counted, taking last night’s date into consideration, as well as the promise of a second one that night. 

And there were still so many things he wished he would’ve said last night. He wished he could take all of Harry’s insecurities and kiss them away, tell him just how beautiful and perfect he was. He had no desire to make Harry fully strip off, trying to remove the shirt last night gave Harry’s fear away. He didn’t care about ever seeing what was underneath, because it didn’t matter. And that was just the simple truth. Harry clearly didn’t want Louis seeing his chest, and that was alright. Louis just wished he could show Harry that he didn’t have to be afraid of him. It kind of stung that there was a possibility that Harry was scared of Louis, seeing as their relationship had only grown stronger over the past few years, but it was completely understandable. 

“Ready to go down?” He asked Harry, who nodded in response. They walked out, checking again that they had the key, much later than Harry usually got up. They walked down the hall, hand in hand, all the way to the elevator. Harry squeezed Louis’ hand in the elevator, making Louis smile at the touch. However, as soon as they reached the ground floor, Harry just let go, walking ahead alone, leaving Louis very confused. He watched Harry dumbly for a moment, before he followed after him at a fast pace, stumbling over his own feet.

Harry walked over to the table where the rest of the boys were sitting. They were just eating breakfast, like normal, but once they saw Harry and Louis, their smiles turned to smirks, their eyebrows all arched slyly. “Hello,” Zayn said slowly, watching the two boys carefully as they sat down at the table. “So, how was your date?”

Harry’s eyes widened, seemingly forgetting that Louis had asked the boys for advice on how to ask him out, a detail Louis was certain he’d mentioned in his grandiose speech.”um,’ Harry stammered, glancing over at Louis. “It was nice,” he said. “Very lovely.”

Louis arched a brow, very, very confused. First, Harry’d dropped his hand in the elevator, but now he was playing dumb about their date. It wasn’t like Louis had told them every detail of the night before, but they knew that he’d asked Harry out, and Louis would’ve made sure they’d known had he been rejected. He’d probably blame them somehow, to be honest. But it didn’t mean Harry’s sudden act was unexcused. 

Zayn nodded, slowly raising his fork, taking a bite of his eggs, dragging it out as long as he could. “Anything else happen?” He asked. “Anything we should know?” Harry shrugged. “Nothing really.”

“Really?” Zayn asked, pursing his lips. Harry nodded slowly. Zayn kept staring at him as he took a large swig of his hot coffee. “So, Louis,” he mused, running his tongue along his own bottom lip. “Last night’s clothes, huh?” 

Louis almost choked on his coffee. He spluttered, Niall handing him a napkin to wipe away the spill. “Thanks,” he whispered, wiping up the mess. “Uh, yeah,” he stuttered. “I, uh, I went to Harry’s room last night.”

Harry elbowed him sharply, striking a nerve. “Nothing happened,” he clarified, although it was a lie and he knew it. “I just didn’t want to be alone. Right?” He asked Louis, looking right at him. 

And Louis didn’t know what it was- the nudge from Harry’s elbow or the desperate look in his wild green eyes. But he swallowed hard, taking a breath. “Yeah,” he said in agreement with Harry. “Nothing happened.”

And Zayn bought it, genuinely looking surprised. “Ok then,” he sighed. “Well, sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You did,” Harry said, very seriously. “Very much so.” Zayn raised his eyebrows, swallowing. He pursed his lips, speaking, “Well, s’ why I’m sorry.” Louis watched the exchange between the two, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from screaming. He rose up suddenly, rattling the table. All eyes turned on him. 

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Just need to go to the bathroom.” They nodded, and he left, racing for the nearest men’s room. Once he was inside, he shut the door behind himself, taking a deep, shuddery breath. He wished he could say he had a single clue as to what was going on, but he didn’t. He didn’t know what was up with Harry, or why he was suddenly pretending like last night never happened. Whipping out his phone, he typed out a quick text to Harry. 

**From Louis: what the hell harry? what’s going on?**

He set his phone down, patiently waiting for a response, if one was to come at all. It didn’t take that long for Harry to respond, but his reply only confused Louis more. 

**From Harry: we’ll talk later. in private.**

Louis sighed in frustration, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked fucking pissed, and if he was completely honest, he kind of was. What in hell would possess Harry to just completely ignore everything like that? He’d been all on board for doing it, he was the one to ask Louis. Hell, he’d even suggested they do it again, even that night. Try as hard as he might, Louis could not come up with a logical or sane reason for Harry’s sudden mood change. It was like he’d been with a completely different Harry last night. One that was friendly, that smiled, that loved Louis. But this one seemed more like a ghost, an empty shell of a person that used to be so warm. This was the Harry he usually saw, but Louis didn’t know. He guessed he’d just assumed when he thought Harry’s moods would be different from here on out. Like Louis brought out the best in him.

The whole day, Louis was pondering the events of that morning. As they went from interview to interview, pap shoot to magazine shoot, he couldn’t help but wonder and think up of different reasons as to why Harry didn’t want to talk about it. And he only came up with one that made sense: Harry was ashamed of Louis. And he prayed that wasn’t the case. Not when he loved Harry so desperately. 

At the end of the day, when it was dark outside, they finally made it to the hotel, weary and worn. Harry and Louis didn’t even have a chance to talk about eating in that night, they were that tired. Louis watched Harry slowly as he rubbed at his eyes, yawning and stretching his aching limbs. He even walked with him, silently, until they were in private. 

“Care to explain what happened earlier?” He asked. 


	12. Eleven

Harry sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glanced around the hallway. Louis stood right in front of him, his glare demanding an answer. “Can we not talk here?” Harry asked, nervously biting his lip. “Can we go to one of our rooms first?” Louis sighed, glancing down at the floor. He tapped his foot in frustration as he pursed his lips, thinking of what to say. “Fine,” he said curtly, nodding in the direction to take. “My room’s closer.”

Harry nodded, following after Louis, who was walking very briskly. He wasn’t used to having to keep up pace with him. Usually he was the one in front of everyone else, possibly the only perk to his disproportionately long legs. Louis didn’t slow down, not for a minute, until they reached the hardwood door to his room. Louis whipped out the key card, sliding it angrily in its slot, the flashing green light allowing them passage into the room. Louis held the door open for Harry, but he didn’t look at him. That stung a bit, and Harry took it to heart as he walked in. He knew he’d done something wrong, something very wrong. 

Truth be told, he’d wanted to tell the world what he thought. But then he thought of everything. What would management say? More importantly, Alan would just be proven right, calling him  _ fag  _ every chance he got. Barely anybody looked at him, or brought themselves to treat him with the respect the other boys got. They all judged him, knowing that beneath the flat chest and masculine appearance, he was an imposter, and that would be all he’d ever be. Not even surgery could change the simple facts of his birth: Harry was not born with male parts, and he’d only even have them if they were artificial, designed by a surgeon, fashioned from his own skin. 

And he thought about Louis. The same boy he was so madly in love with, the same boy he’d lost his virginity to the night before, the same boy he wanted to love forever, to promise his heart and soul to him for his keeping. He was free from the taunts, the state’s, the humiliation of being different. He didn’t deserve to have Harry’s reputation drag him down. And so, Harry had just decided to lie. And not just to the boys, but to Louis as well. He’d never have been able to make him fully understand why they wouldn’t work together, why Harry would just fail him over and over again, if Harry told him the truth. 

So now, as Louis glared at him, his fiery blue eyes burning holes into Harry’s mere existence, making him feel smaller than he ever had before. Harry swallowed hard, pursing his lips. “Louis,” he started, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t-“

“You couldn’t what?” Louis snapped. Harry shut up, bracing himself for screaming. But it didn’t come. Louis didn’t raise his voice. Instead, he kept speaking in a low voice, barely louder than a whisper. That scared Harry a bit more, if he was honest. “Harry, answer honestly,” Louis pleaded. “Are you ashamed of me?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “No!” He cried. “No, never. I’ll never be ashamed of you,” he promised. Louis only wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Then why would you lie?” He asked. “You don’t have to pretend like absolutely nothing happened last night. Like what we did was nothing,” he seethed, “because what we did meant a lot to me and I’m sure it did to you as well.”

Harry took in a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “It was my first time,” he said. “Of course it meant a lot. I just don’t want to publicize it. Nobody made a big deal out of anybody else losing it. Not Zayn, not Liam, not Niall. I don’t want it to be common knowledge, ok?” He asked, licking the outside of his chapped lips. Louis sighed, shaking his head in confusion. “It’s just banter,” he said. “It’s nothing. Nobody even cares. It’s not a big deal to them.”

“It’s a big deal to me!” Harry cried. “And if I just what to leave out parts of the truth, it’s my business.” Louis slapped a hand up to his forehead, rubbing his temples. “Harry,” he sighed. “You didn’t leave out parts of the truth, you lied. To Zayn. Don’t you remember?” He asked, eyebrows arched. “When I said I went up to your room. They wouldn’t have asked if anything happened if you hadn’t lied. Now, they probably know anyways,” he added. Harry cried out loud, making a clicking noise as his tongue slapped against the back of his teeth. “I didn’t want them talking about it,” he repeated. 

“Listen, Harry, if you’re ashamed of me, just tell me,” Louis told him. Harry shook his head. “I’m not fucking ashamed of you, ok?” He whispered, his voice breaking. Tears pricked the backs of his eyes. “I’m so in love with you. And that’s the truth,” he told a very dumbstruck Louis. “But I’m never going to be good enough for you, and you know it.”

Louis sighed, his face softening. “Harry, you are perfect.” He said. Harry shook his head. “Stop saying that,” he pleaded, a tear gathering in the corner of his eye. “If I was perfect, do you think I’d be like this?” He gestured to his chest, his height, his face. “If I was perfect, I wouldn’t have been born like this. I wouldn’t have to fucking change everything about me. I would hate myself,” he said, his voice raising slightly with his last sentence. His whole body shook, sobs started to build up in his chest, the familiar lump in his throat swelling as he tried to swallow around it, keeping his tears to a minimum. “So please, Louis,” he cried, breathing shuddering gasps for air. “Don’t tell me I’m fucking perfect.” 

Louis gaped at him, not saying a word. Harry shook his head, walking away, brushing Louis’ shoulder as he rushed out the door. He shut the door behind him, closing it with a loud noise. Halfway down the hall, twenty feet from the elevator, he paused, wiping at the tears that kept pouring, despite his efforts to calm himself down. He looked back at the closed door, waiting, praying for Louis to come after him. He waited thirty seconds, and then a minute. That minute turned into five, and it was only then that Harry accepted that Louis just didn’t care. Swallowing his pride, he walked away, shaky fingers reaching for the elevator buttons. 

The ride up was a lonely one, allowing him to cry as much as he needed. Five floors between him and his room gave him plenty of time to think about what he’d just done. And, as much as he hated it, in the end, he accepted the truth. 

He’d just ruined his own happy ending. Not anyone else’s but his own. Louis would find someone else, someone truly perfect, someone who wasn’t Harry. And it killed him to think that. But it was the truth. He’d never find anybody as perfect as Louis, and he'd never deserve anybody like him. Nobody should have to put up with him and his own sorry existence. And it was his own fault. He’d never be good enough for anybody, no matter what. No matter how hard he tried. No matter how he tried to change his appearance. Nothing would change the sorrow he carried around. The tantrums he threw when he was upset, he being the only one putting himself. The whispers in the shadows that haunted his nightmares,  _ ‘tranny’  _ and  _ ‘fag’  _ and  _ ‘worthless,’  _ would be his own partners for life, as unwelcome as they were. They festered inside the back of his mind, living for free, the voices that encouraged him to consider the end. 

And this would just become another thing he’d regret failing. His one shot at being happy with his soulmate, his dream come true, picket fence and everything, was sabotaged by his own reckless stupidity. He wanted nothing better than to be with Louis. The other night was perfect. He felt loved, in ways he never had before. For a moment, he even felt beautiful. The mood didn’t last long, but it was enough for Harry to realize he’d never feel that happy with anybody else. 

He heard the sound of the elevator as he researched the floor he was rooming on, and he stared blankly at the open door, absentmindedly stepping out into the hallway. He felt like he was dragging his own weight down the halls, his feet feeling like they were tied to rocks, his chest tight, the band of his binder digging into his skin. He tried his hardest to breathe in, but his airways felt raw, worn and tired of the constant drag of breathing oxygen into lungs. His eyes felt puffy, the skin around them a bright shade of red. He licked his lips, trying to rid himself of the dry, cracked feeling of the peeling layers of skin. 

As he reached his door, he fumbled around, fishing through his pocket for his key card. Grasping it between two of his fingers, he shakily slid it into the slot, the code verifying and letting him into the room. He felt a gush of cold air, sighing. He must’ve left the air conditioning on, and now the room was freezing. He pulled off his coat, dropping it onto the bed as he fumbled with the hem of his shirt. He shivered at the sudden chill, teeth chattering as he walked over in the window’s direction, fingers reaching to turn the heater on. 

And suddenly, it was like he was blinded. 

A flash of bright light shone through the window. As he fell back with a cry, he covered his eyes. He dropped his hand from his face, blinking and only seeing in inverted colors, every shape outlined in a purple blue haze. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he got back up, looking out the window. He had no fucking clue what it was, an explosion perhaps, or a light bulb blowing its fuse. He hoped nobody else was hurt. Silently, he closed the curtains, feeling slightly safer with them shut. 

He peeled the binder off, feeling relief as the elastic band let loose, and the indented skin could relax, no longer constricted by the tight fabric. He sighed, researching for the cotton tank top, the familiar shirt’s fabric work thin from many different uses. He held it up, pulling it over his head. It smelled of sweat, but he didn’t mind. It was comforting, in an almost disturbing way. He reached down, undoing his buckle and letting his pants drop to his feet. He kicked them off, along with his boots, pulling the comforter down and climbing in, pulling the blankets around him. He nuzzled into the heavy comforter, his eyes drooping. 

Tonight was going to be a bad night. He could already tell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'd like to know what you're thinking of this, so please leave a comment!! what do you think is going to happen next? what do you think about what's happened already?


	13. Twelve

It was the day of the press conference, and throughout the whole event, Louis stayed quiet. He should be excited. Their movie was coming out in less than a week, and fans from all over the work flew in and camped out for the premiere. He’d finally come clean to his friends and family about his sexuality, calling his mum and sisters over the phone, pleasantly surprised at their welcoming reaction, even though he hadn’t expected anything less of them. All the same, he only felt empty and betrayed. He was still so confused by what Harry had said. And he was angry at himself. He should’ve stopped Harry before he ran out the door, tried to make things better. He should’ve told him he loved him back. And now wasn’t a good time to tell him. Not a day later, not when it seemed like there was the possibility Louis was faking it to make Harry feel better. Because Louis knew Harry, and he took things quietly to heart. He didn’t speak up for himself, he didn’t ever purposefully put himself in the center of attention. He didn’t want to cause problems, but God knows their managers found so many in him anyways. 

Louis’ eyes kept moving over to Harry, his gaze resting on the beautiful boy, even involuntarily. He couldn’t help it. The way his collar scooped downwards, revealing enough to show off his sharp collarbones, but not enough to expose the tight spandex binder, the way his necklace was centered around his throat. His curls were brushed back in a quiff, but still wild, reflecting his ever so curious personality. And he smiled. He fucking smiled, like he was genuinely happy. Louis couldn’t even tell. He always could tell before if Harry was faking his moods or not, but this was different. If he was faking it now, then he was putting extra effort into making it seem real. Like he felt a need to cover up how he really felt even more desperately than normal. Or, the worse case of the two, Harry was faking it at all. And he was happy. Really happy. Without Louis. And he had to admit, he could feel jealousy bubble up in the pit of his stomach at the very thought of Harry being happy all by himself, leaving Louis behind to deal with his own emotions. And, if he was completely honest, Louis was feeling pretty damn alone at the moment. Even though he was surrounded by his friends and fans, all of them screaming out his name loudly, he felt the need to talk to Harry, preferably in private, apologize to him, ask him if they could do it all over again. Start from the beginning.

He watched Harry from the corner of his eye, noticing the way the cameras focused on him, flashing lights almost blinding him. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for Harry as he blinked at the large flashes of bright light. Harry almost looked scared even, the lights frightening him. Louis glanced around, watching as the paps were talking amongst themselves, pointing directly at Harry. He wrinkled his nose in confusion. Don’t get him wrong, Louis understood that the media loved to single Harry out. He always resented the way Harry was the only one who got attention, but this was different. This was a completely different kind of attention. One might even call it negative. Especially the way they kept glancing at their various devices, phones and tablets, and looking back up at Harry, almost in disgust. 

Louis paused. Something was definitely wrong. 

He looked around for one of their managers, hoping for some direction. He spotted Shirley, clad in her suit and tie, waving at them, her gestures beckoning them to come off of the stage and out of the limelight. He walked over to her, seeing the frantic gaze behind her glasses. “What’s going on?” He asked. She glanced around, peering around him and watching the others as they gathered around Louis. “Come back here,” she said, walking into the nearest room. Louis swallowed, looking back at the boys. He glanced at Harry in particular, watching his face as he went from fake smile to sudden awareness, almost frightened. 

“What’s going on?’ Liam asked, instinctively reaching for Harry’s wrist to protect him. Harry pulled away, snapping his wrist to his side. Louis glanced at the exchange, watching as Harry shifted. His breathing picked up, and for a minute, Louis was worried he was about to have an asthma attack. His pupils were dilated, and he looked suspicious. 

And then it hit Louis. Harry must know something they didn’t. Whatever the reason for the paps glancing at him and taking pictures of just him, Harry knew at least part of the story. Everything about his body language gave it away. The way he breathed in and out heavily, his nostrils constantly flaring, the way his green eyes dilated in fear, the way he bit down on the inside of his cheek, almost like he was trying to keep himself from crying or speaking. And Louis felt like he should do something, but he didn’t exactly know what that would be. He didn’t even know where to start when he didn’t know what the fuck was going on in the first place.

“We’re calling a meeting, your driver will take you to the studio,” Shirley explained, pursing her red lips nervously. For once, she seemed human. Like she genuinely cared. “It’s best you’re told everything there, away from the public. Hary,” she said, turning to the green eyed teenager. “I’m sorry in advance.” He nodded, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth. Louis shared a glance with the three others, all of them just as confused as he was. Their phones were all in their bags, left at the hotel. They wouldn’t need them that day, or at least they’d thought. 

Their guards began to usher them to the black car, the windows tinted. The fans screamed as they passed them, and the guards created a barrier between the band and the hoard of teenage girls, shutting the car door and isolating the five boys from the chaotic world outside. All eyes turned onto Harry as the driver drove down the busy road, picking up his pace, but he remained quietly, gaging his own breathing. He was trying to keep himself from bursting into tears, Louis knew. His eyelids were twitching, and he stared down at his thumbs with baited breath. 

Louis just wished he could find all the words he needed to hear. 

The drive to the studio was not a long one, and they arrived promptly, quickly ushered inside by their guards. They walked down the hallways, boots stomping onto the linoleum flooring, all the way to the conference. The first person Louis caught sight of was Alan, fuming. His face was flushed with anger, and he glared directly at Harry. “You,” he yelled, pointing at him, and then at the chair he was standing right next to. “Sit.” He ordered. 

Harry swallowed nervously, silently taking the seat. Louis and the others sank down into the seats behind him, preparing to watch the chaos unfold. Alan breathed heavily, watching the screen behind him as an image was projected onto it. And Louis gasped, eyes widening. 

It was a picture of Harry, his hand covering his eyes, binder clearly exposed, right in the center of focus. To make it worse, the lighting made his skin appear pale and translucent, while the coloring of the binder remained the same, only contrasting the difference in tones. He looked afraid in the photo. He looked blindsighted, and scared, more so than Lous had even seen him.

“What the fuck,” Alan cursed, spittle flying from him mouth, “were you thinking?” Harry breathed in and out shakily, focused on only the photo. He didn’t answer. “This photo has been all over the internet in less than a day,” Alan seethed, his fingers clawing. Louis actually feared that he was going to try and attack Harry. “And you have nothing to say for yourself,” Alan spat.

Harry swallowed hard, shaking his head. His eyes began to water as tears brimmed his eyes, threatening to spill over. He kept quiet, only shaking his head in denial. “I- I can’t- I didn’t,” Harry stammered with labored breathing. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Alan leaned down, his face inches away from Harry’s as he glared into the terrified boy’s eyes. “Of course,” he whispered. “Of course it isn’t your fucking fault. It’s ours,” he laughed cynically. “It’s been our fucknig fault since the minute we signed a fucking tranny to the label.”

Harry sobbed, pushing against Alan as he rose from the seat. Alan stumbled backwards as Harry ran out of the room. He seemed to be genuinely surprised at the sudden strength of the boy, but that wasn’t what he had to be worried about for long. Louis had already risen up in livid rage, pointing a finger accusingly at Alan. “Now listen here, you little shit,” he spat. 

“Don’t talk to me like that-” Alan started, but Louis interrupted him with a furious hand motion. “I’ll fucking talk to you how I want,” he seethed. “You don’t get respect after that. You have’t fucking earned anything,” he said, poking angrily at Alan’s chest. “You’ve never been anything short of cruel to Harry, and I’m sorry I didn’t fucking say anything about it earlier. He was fucking sixteen,” he snarled, “and you decided he wasn’t good enough. You have never said anything nice to his face, and you’re the one who hasn’t let him be who he truly is. I am done with you,” he cried. “I’m fucking done with you and your bullshit.”

He took a deep breath. He felt his friends’ eyes on his back, and he turned around to them. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s find Harry.’

Despite Alan’s screams and threats, they left the room, scanning the halls for their friend, only to find that he was nowhere to be found. Their search became more frantic, calling out his name in the middle of the large entrance. 

“Excuse me,” Louis asked, running up to Shirley, who, at this point, he’d decided to trust after the first display of actual emotion this afternoon. “Have you seen Harry?”

She pursed her lips, sighing. “I’m sorry,” she said, straightening her glasses. “He just left. Didn’t say where he was going. Your driver must’ve taken him someplace.” 

Louis felt like he couldn’t breathe. Turning around, he saw Zayn, holding his phone and cursing himself. “He’s not picking up,” he muttered. Louis’ eyes widened. 

They had to find Harry before he did anything stupid. 


	14. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: suicidal themes.

He didn’t think. He couldn’t think. He could barely even breathe. All he could do was hurt. Hurt until he couldn’t even feel anymore. It was like his heart had been broken. It already was, but now it felt more so, like someone had taken the shattered pieces and set them ablaze. 

He’d ran from the conference room as quickly as he could, not stopping, even when he heard his name called. He ran outside, in the blaring heat of the afternoon, getting in the car, asking to be driven to the hotel. 

Harry had never felt this way before. Like he could never be happy again. For the first time, he felt truly numb. His sorrows had bubbled up and then died down, settling in the pit of his stomach and staying there. And nothing worked to lift his spirits. Not even the usual tips and tricks helped. He tried to think of things that would have otherwise made him smile. His mum, Gemma, music, warm summer evenings, Louis. Nothing worked.

And for the first time, he felt alone. Cut off from the world, the prodigal son, rejected by a normalized concept that he couldn’t physically change. He’d gotten it tattooed on his body, thinking of it in a poetic way. His soul would never change. But now, it took a different meaning. This despair, this hurt, this hopelessness would never change. He’d felt this way since before he was ten years. He didn’t know why the fuck he’d expected anything to change, even in the span of almost eleven years. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it anymore. 

He tried to keep it together in the back of the car, only crying silently, masking his sobs like his mind had always trained him to do. He was ashamed of a lot of things he’d done, but he’d never actually broken down in front of anyone since he was a child. It was like a second talent, skill he’d achieved after years of bottling up, his very core aching for a release. He thanked his driver as soon as he arrived at the hotel, getting out as quickly as he could. The glass doors seemed so tall, so big. Or maybe he was just so small-feeling, so insignificant, like a speck of dust on the ground. 

As soon as he was inside, he ran to the elevator, ignoring the stares of the other guests as he stumbled over his own feet. He pressed the buttons as quickly as he could. He couldn’t bear the thought of being in such a small space with a stranger, especially one who might recognize, harassing him the whole ride up those seven floors. He watched slowly as the doors slid closed, keeping it together until the moment the elevator began to jolt, moving up at a steady pace. Then he crumbled. 

Crying out, he sobbed loudly, a wretched noise coming from the very back of his throat. All the emotion he’d learned to pent up was released, and once the tears started coming, he couldn’t stop them. His cheeks felt icy cold as the hot tears poured out over his skin, resting and pooling over the cheekbones. He was almost blinded by his sorrows, finding it hard to focus through the blurry haze of his watery eyes. 

But it was nothing. 

It was nothing. 

He was nothing.

It was a startling thought, but not unwelcome. He felt himself shiver at the notion, holding his arms close to his tightly bound chest as his teeth chattered from the chill. 

He needed to talk to somebody. His mum, his sister, Trish, Louis, anybody. Actually, no. Not Louis. He’d hate Harry, he’d blame him for it, the picture was only taken because Harry was stupid enough to let his own personal agenda get in the way of his feelings for Louis, it was his own fault that everyone was going to hate him. Not Gemma, she was busy. Not his mum, what kind of a son would he be if he only called her when he needed help, and not just to check up on her from time to time. 

The elevator made a noise, and he watched the doors open dramatically, and he stepped out into the hallway. It felt even colder out there, but maybe it was just him. He walked down the halls, feeling his feet drag against the floor. His very footsteps felt heavy, scraping against the carpeted floor as he walked numbly. He was a mess. 

Reaching his door, he watched as his fingers pulled out his key card, shaking as they fit it into the slot, pulling it through. It was almost supernatural, like he was watching himself from a different point of view. His fingers looked cold and pale, like ice, gripping the door handle so hard, his knuckles became pure white. He pushed the door open, hand steadying himself as he leaned into the wall, drunkenly stumbling from his own self loathing. He kicked his shoes off as soon as the door was closed, his socks providing the barest amount of warmth. He could feel the plushy material of the carpet underneath his toes, walking across the room, falling into the bed. He reached for his suitcase, pulling out his phone. He had so many notifications, from friends to social media, undoubtedly fans making a huge craze about the photo. 

He opened the phone, unlocking it carefully. He swallowed, immediately spying three missed calls from Zayn. There were almost tne messages he’d received from Zayn as well, but he ignored those, breathing shaily as he dialed Trish’s number, holding the phone up to his ear as he trembled. His hand flew to his mouth, his teeth biting down on the flesh around the fingernail on his thumb. He heard the phone ring, and ring, and ring, until he heard an automated voice, telling him he’d reached the office of Dr. Trish Patel. He sighed. Of course. The one time he really, truly needed her, and she didn’t answer, But it wasn’t her fault. She was probably asleep. He felt a tear slip from his eye as he turned from his therapist to social media, a part of him telling him it was absolutely necessary to read all the shit undoubtedly being posted about him. 

He took in a deep breath as he opened Twitter. 

**the fuck? @Harry_Styles**

**lol what the hell is harry wearing**

**is that a bra?**

**guys, it’s a binder, not a bra. he’s trans, probably**

**so u mean he’s a girl??? wtf?**

**all this time he’s just lied**

**tranny @Harry_Styles**

**if i were u i’d kill myself @Harry_Styles**

**you can’t have a girl in a boy band**

**get the fag out of 1D**

**die @Harry_Styles**

**kill yourself @Harry_Styles**

**die**

**die**

**die**

Die. 

Die. 

Die. 

It became a mantra, drumming a steady beat into Harry’s brain. He could still hear it as he shut off the phone, throwing it down beside him on the bed. His sobs increased, tearing through his chest. This was beyond heartbreak. It was like someone had reached into his chest, pulled his heart out with their clawed fingers and left him to bleed. His hands reached up for his face, cupping his cheeks. He felt his tears spread over his cheekbones, coating everything in salty sorrow. The bitter tongue burned his tongue, and he felt torn apart. Everything- his pride, his dignity, his very being, his existence- had been ripped to shreds, left to be burned by the feet of people digging their heels into his skin. He wished he could bleed. He wished he could have a reason for all of this pain. 

He was nothing. Absolutely nothing, worth nothing, worth no use. His body was nothing more than damaged skin and bones, not even matching his own identity. Scars, both literal and figurative, marred his body, leaving an endless number of stories to tell, each one having a reason. His body wasn't even representative of who he was, and the only way he could look like he wanted would be to create one artificially, remove his breasts and cut beneath the skin with a knife, making new parts out of his own skin. 

He couldn’t remember the exact moment he’d lost track of who he was. Because now, it was like he wasn’t anyone, or anything anymore. He wasn’t Harry. His was a name forgotten on the list of patients at a doctor’s office, scrawled in a child’s handwriting on his own birthday card, etched into a tombstone. It should’ve happened long ago, but he’d failed the first time. 

Grabbing his phone, he dialed yet another familiar number, holding the phone back up to his ear. He brushed with his curls one last time, letting them hang loose in front of his eyes. He swallowed as he heard his mum’s answering machine. He wasn’t expecting her to answer. It was probably late over where she lived, but he wanted to make sure she saw this. 

“Hey, Mum,” he sighed, talking after the beeping noise. “I just wanted to say that I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I’m always gonna. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

He ended the recording with a tap of his finger, letting the phone rest beside him on the bed. He swallowed, getting up and kneeling beside his suitcase. He fumbled with his zipper, his hands trembled, but he focused on breathing in and out. Nothing was here to stop him this time. 

He found what he was looking for, the little tiny pill bottle, colored orange, the white cap screwed on tightly. 

This was it. 


	15. Fourteen

**trigger warning: attempted suicide**

Louis stepped out of the cab, getting into his feet and running towards the hotel entrance before it had even come to a full stop. “Lou!” Zayn hissed, unbuckling his seat belt, and getting out himself. Liam slipped the money to the cab driver, following the two out onto the street, Niall soon following after him. Louis paid no attention to Zayn’s cursing, or Liam telling him to slow down. He couldn’t slow down. Not when Harry wasn’t responding, not when he was going through something painful. 

Louis couldn’t even imagine getting outed. And that photograph, you could just tell that Harry was scared. He couldn’t fathom what would make somebody creep outside Harry’s hotel room, which, as a reminder, was on the seventh floor, and take a picture of him in such a vulnerable state. His eyes had been red and puffy- Louis’ fault. It was his own fucking fault Harry had been crying. That was the night Harry walked away, and Louis let him go. He cursed himself, wishing he’d sucked up his damn pride and gone after him. Maybe if he had, they wouldn’t be in this chaos. 

They walked inside, and Louis rushed ahead of them, hurrying to the elevator and instantly smashing his thumb against the button pointed up. Zayn ran after him, right by his side. They waited for the elevator doors to open up, holding their breathing as they stood anxiously. Louis didn’t want to think that Harry could actually do something that would hurt himself, but he didn’t really know what to believe at this point. Either way, he was determined to help Harry get through this, putting his own feelings aside. Harry was way too important to let a stupid argument get in the way of his mental state. And Louis prayed with his whole being that management wouldn’t concoct another evil plan just to make more unnecessary digs at Harry. He knew that fucked with Harry’s mind, burying underneath his skin. 

The elevator doors opened, allowing them in. All four of them rushed forward, brushing past each other in desperate attempts to reach Harry as quickly as they could. Niall was the one who hit the button, accidentally missing the first time and hitting the one to the eight floor, but quickly pressing the right one less than a second afterwards. 

You could’ve cut the tension in there with a knife. It was thick, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the noisy tapping of Liam’s foot against the floor. Louis inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he swallowed hard. “Liam,” he said suddenly. “Please stop.” Liam stilled his foot, but sighed as he did so. “I’m just worried,” he said. “So am I,” Louis said, “and your foot isn’t doing anything to fucking help.” 

“Well, I’m sorry for actually caring-” Liam started angrily, but Zayn raised his hands, cutting both of them off. “Shut it!” He hissed, and the two quieted down. “Bickering isn’t going to help, ok? So shut up,” he warned, sighing shakily. Louis nodded quietly. 

The elevator wasn’t going fast enough. Something was wrong, he could tell. It was like a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was very, very wrong. He cried, stifling the noise with his pursed lips. He had to get to Harry. He had to, he had to, he had to. 

The doors opened, and he was the first one out, running down the halls. The boys called after him, but he ignored them, determined to get to Harry. When he reached the door, it was closed shut, the hardwood door seeming very cold and intimidating all of a sudden. No surprise there. He reached out for the door handle, the brass feeling icy cold under his tight grip. He turned it, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked from the inside, he cried out in desperation. The boys gathered around him, only watching as he struggled to open the door. “Louis,” Zayn sighed, his own breathing picking up. “Stop, you’re going to break it.”

Louis shook his head, tears gathering in the corner of his eye. “Harry!” He cried, beating his fist against the door. No answer. “Harry, please, if you can hear me, please open the door.” Again, he was met with complete silence. He cried out, a wretched sob coming from his throat. “Please,” he begged. He turned to the boys. “Does anybody have the key?” Liam was already fishing around in the pocket of his jacket, speaking, “Paul gave me a mastercard.” 

Louis nodded, waiting with outstretched fingers. Liam pulled out the plastic card, handing it over to Louis, who really didn’t skip a beat. In a flash, he’d swiped the card through the slot, the lights flashing green, and the door opened for him finally. He ran in, letting the card slip through his fingers and drop to the carpeted floor. “Harry!” He cried, rushing past the hallway and stopping in his tracks at the sight he was presented with. 

Harry lay in bed, eyes shut, pulling the blankets over him with one arm, the other resting beneath his pillow. Louis sighed in relief. “He’s sleeping,” he said to the other boys, like they couldn’t see for themselves and needed the narration. “He’s sleeping,” he repeated, sitting down beside Harry on the bed. His gaze rested over him, lingering on the way his curls fell over his closed eyes. He looked more peaceful than Louis had ever seen. 

Zayn sighed beside him. Harry’s nostrils flared slightly as he breathed faintly. His pale skin had absolutely no color to it anymore. Louis cried out, reaching over to brush his curls out of his face. “He’s ok, right?” Niall asked, shifting nervously. Louis turned back around to face him. “He should be,” he said, “s’ probably good for him to get some rest. He’s going through a lot.” The other boys nodded, but didn’t move. It felt wrong to just leave. They might end up staying for a while. They wanted to help him, not abandon him to fend for himself. He shouldn’t have to fight his own battles. 

And Louis had to admit, he was shocked to see Harry just resting. You’d have thought by the aching feeling in his gut, something much worse would’ve happened. He still feared it might. He didn’t feel much relief at the discovery. He was still shaking, even as he reached out to caress Harry’s soft cheek, feeling cold beneath his touch. The whole room was cold. Louis glanced around, reaching for the comforter to pull closer around Harry. As he did, he noticed that part of Harry’s shirt was pulled away, and he could see his binder, still on. He sighed. 

“His binder’s on,” he muttered, reaching out to pull at it slightly. “What’s wrong with that?” Liam asked. Louis turned to face it. “He’s not supposed to have it on while he's sleeping. Messes with his lungs or summat,” he explained, pulling the blankets down so he could wake Harry up. “Hey,” he said softly. “You need to get your binder off. Don’t want to hurt yourself.” Harry didn’t budge. “Harry,” Louis repeated softly. “Please, wake up.” He reached his arms under Harry’s sleeping figues, hooking his fingers underneath Harry’s arms and pulling him up. Harry hand fell from his grip on the blanket, and something small fell to the floor, making the tiniest noise against the flooring. Louis wrinkled his nose in confusion, leaning over and picking it up. 

He held the small bottle in his hands. It was empty. His worrying spiking suddenly, he read the label. Lunesta. 

Glancing between Harry’s still figure and the empty bottle, suddenly making a connection. “Somebody call 911.” He demanded, hands reaching for Harry’s wrist. “What?” Zayn exclaimed. “Why?” Louis turned back to them with teary eyes, feeling only a faint feeling underneath his fingertips. “He overdosed,” he cried. 

Zayn’s jaw fell in shock, and Niall cried out, shaking his head, like he didn’t want to believe it was true. Liam pulled out his phone, dialing the number with shaky fingers. He held it up to his ear, waiting carefully. “Hello,’ he said. “My friend’s overdosed.” He pursed his lips. “Sleeping pills,” Louis said. 

“It was his sleeping pills,” Liam told the person on the other end. Louis turned his gaze from Liam to Harry again, taking in any sudden change. His lips were going blue, and his breathing had completely come to a halt. “Liam,” Louis cried. “He’s not breathing.”

Liam came up beside him. “I’m going to hand the phone to another friend,” he explained, holding out the phone for Louis, who took it within his shaky fingers. He stepped back, and Liam leaned over Harry, picking him up underneath his arms like a baby, laying him flat on the floor. He lay him down against the floor, pressing the palms of his hands on the center of Harry’s chest. 

“Hello?” The voice said. “Yes,” Louis said. “He stopped breathing, my friend’s doing CPR right now,” he explained. “Good,” the voice said. “Keep doing that until we arrive. Can you tell us your location?” Louis sniffed. “Yeah,” he said, “we’re at the Fairmont Hotel, seventh floor, room 456.”

“Alright sir, an ambulance has been dispatched and paramedics are headed your way.” The voice said. Louis nodded. Zayn turned to him, his eyes filling with tears as he said, “I’m calling Paul. 

Louis kept talking to the operator. Paul came barging in, followed soon by the paramedics, who took Harry’s body, hooking an oxygen mask over his face and strapping him onto a stretcher. He watched numbly as they carried him into the ambulance, speeding off into the busy streets of LA. 

“He’s going to be alright,” He cried. “He has to be.”

And even though he wasn’t lying, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He’d never told Harry he loved him back. And if Harry didn’t make it, he’d regret that for the rest of his life. 


	16. Fifteen

“Harry Styles?” 

Louis turned suddenly, alert at the mention of Harry’s name. He sat next to Zayn, Niall and Liam in the chairs across the room from them. Paul was currently in a meeting across the city with their managers, trying to explain the whole situation to them. Louis pursed his lips, standing up as the white coat clad doctor walked over, her clipboard held up in front of her. “Are you family of Harry’s?” She asked Louis. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m a, uh, I’m a friend.” 

“Is there any family present?” She asked. Again, he shook his head. “We called his mum, she’s on the next flight,” he explained. The doctor nodded. “Seeing as none of Harry’s family are present, if you are anyone of the following persons, please tell us. We’re only authorized to disclose her medical information to certain people.” 

“His.” Louis interjected out of habit. She arched an eyebrow, and he explained, “He’s transgender.” 

“I see. Sorry,” she said, rubbing out a mark on the papers clipped to the board she held with the end of her pencil. “I’ll make the corrections.” Louis nodded to show he understood. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Liam right behind him. He smiled weakly, placing his own hand over Liam’s, squeezing it and not letting go. They all needed each other right now. “Is anyone of you Lewis Tomlinson?” She asked. Louis held up a hand as the other boys pointed, not even bothering to correct her pronunciation. She nodded, taking another note. “Alright,” she said. “I’m Dr. Fisher, I’ll be treating Harry while he stays here,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand to shake. Louis extended his own hand, eagerly awaiting to hear what he so desperately needed to know. “Now, you said that Harry overdosed on his sleeping medication, prescribed for treating his insomnia,” she said, reading off of her clipboard. “Was there any behavior beforehand that indicates he might’ve been considering taking his life?” 

Louis pursed his lips. “He’s been distant over the last couple weeks,” he said, nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But he never talked about it?” She asked. “He never expressed any desire to kill himself?” 

“No,” Louis answered. “He never said anything about it.”

“Was there anything that might’ve directly served as cause for his decision?” She asked. Louis swallowed hard. “He was outed,” he said. “There’s probably more reasons than just that but that’s the last thing that happened before-“ he stopped himself. “Well, you know.” 

She nodded. “I understand that it’s difficult to comprehend this,” she said soothingly. “Believe me, I’ve gone through the same thing with one of my friends. But anything you can tell us helps,” she added. “We want to understand how to help your friend recover.” Louis nodded, looking down at his feet. It was one of the hardest things he had to come to terms with. He wished he’d known before. He wished he could’ve gone after him that night, told him those three beautiful

words. Maybe if he’d done something differently, Harry wouldn’t be lying stone cold in a hospital bed. Maybe if he’d just promised to be there. Like a good friend would’ve. even if he didn’t understand where their relationship stood or what they were to each other anymore, he would always love Harry first as a friend. And Louis, well he was an all out shitty friend to Harry. 

“We pumped his stomach and managed to clear the toxins from his system,” Dr. Fisher said. “Just in time as well. You boys worked fast. Had you not, I doubt he’d have made it this far. You gave him a fighting chance,” she said, smiling sadly at the boys. “His body has gone into a coma as a result of briefly going into shock. There’s no telling when he’ll wake up, but the odds are in his favor. You can see him if you’d like,” she offered. “He’s in room 306.”

Louis nodded. “Thank you so much,” he professed to the doctor. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder at the boys. Mustering up all their courage, they started to walk through the halls, the journey to Harry’s room short and easy, but only in relativity. Really, Louis didn’t know how he was supposed to go into that room and see Harry like that. 

He knew it was wrong to blame himself. That there wasn’t much he could’ve done. But he kept telling himself, over and over again, it was his own fucking fault that Harry was in that bed. That everything had started the minute he’d let Harry walk away that night. If he’d convinced him to stay, told him he really loved him, Harry would’ve never gone up to his hotel room, and that damned picture of him would’ve never been taken, and Alan would’ve never gone all batshit crazy towards Harry, screaming at the top of his lungs, and Harry would’ve never run off alone. And it all started with Louis. 

“Hey, you good?” Niall asked, laying a hand on Louis’ shoulder. He sighed, his chin trembling. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m scared I’ll never be.” Niall nodded, squeezing his shoulder slightly within his hand. “Listen, Lou,” he said, pursing his lips. “We’re not stupid. We know something more went on in the hotel room.” Louis nodded. “I didn’t expect anything less,” he said. 

Niall smiled weakly. “And I know you love him,” he said. “I know you do. And he does too.” Louis nodded, breathing in and out. “And I don’t understand why he’s done this,” Niall cried, “but I just wanted to say that we’re here for each other. And I know you’re hurt too,” he added. “I don’t want you to ever feel like Harry did. And I fucking hate that we weren’t there for Harry when he needed us,” he exclaimed, tears gathering in his eyes. “So I just wanted to promise that I’ll be there for you, from here on out. I’m here for all of you,” he promised. 

Louis nodded, holding out his arms and stumbling into Niall’s arms. Niall wrapped his arms around Louis, engulfing him in a huge bear hug. He waved the other boys over, and they hugged it out, the unspoken promise understood by every single one of them. They hadn’t been there when Harry needed them most. But still, something had changed the minute Dr. Fisher told them it was them that saved Harry. Louis couldn’t even bear the thought of how things would’ve turned out had they not had the mastercard, or had he not lifted the blanket, or if Liam hadn’t performed CPR on Harry. He just hoped for the best, praying that Harry would make it. 

“Do you want some time alone?” Zayn asked, wiping at his red and puffy eyes. Louis pursed his lips, biting down nervously with his teeth. “Is that ok?” He asked, and they all nodded. “Of course,” Liam said. “He loves you the most. It’s only proper.”

Louis smiled weakly at the sentiment, turning back to the closed door. Taking a deep breath, he reached out, closing his fingers around the cold silver handle, feeling like he was going to pass out. He opened the door, stepping inside the room, a gush of cold air blowing into his face. 

And for a moment, time stopped. 

He closed the door behind himself, giving him a little privacy with Harry, who lay, completely still. His face, which Louis usually expected to see colorful, and full of life, was emotionless, not even the corners of his lips pulling up into the ghost of a smile. He’d never looked so pale, like a spirit. Had Louis not known the full story, he’d have assumed Harry was dead, or close to it. His hands lay limply by his sides, a blanket pulled up over his lower half, stopping under his arms. Louis sighed, trembling as he took the seat by the bed. His hands reached out for Harry, his thumb ghosting over the bone in Harry’s wrist, protruding because of the angle he lay at. He grasped Harry’s hand, leaning up close so he could press lips against it, softly laying a gentle kiss on Harry’s knuckle. He took another deep breath. 

“I don’t hate you,” he said. He scoffed with disgust, his own words repulsing him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t even know if you can hear me, but know that I’m sorry. I know you’ll only ever blame yourself, but it was my fault,” he cried. “It was my fault. I should have made you stay. I should have told you-” he stopped himself as a sob threatened to break out of him. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I should’ve told you I love you,” he said. “I do. I love you so much, and it kills me to think you didn’t know that.”

A tear slipped down his cheek. “So you better wake up,” he warned, more tears spilling out, staining his shirt. “You better,” he repeated himself, “because I need to tell you that. I need you. I need you so much. It hurts without you,” he cried. “I need you to be here. Can you do that for me? Please?”

He knew it seemed stupid to try and talk like Harry could hear him. But in case Harry could actually hear him, given the teensiest chance, he prayed that he could hear, and listen. Louis needed him. He could picture a world without him. 

“Please.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all are enjoying this. please, leave a comment if you have any thoughts on it <3


	17. Sixteen

A day passed. Louis didn’t leave. The others took turns, one by one going back to the hotel to shadower and get a fresh change of clothes. But not Louis. He refused to go. It was his responsibility to make sure that things were made right, or at least he told himself that. His presence garnered the attention of the various men Evers of the hospital staff, all of them siding with his friends, coaxing him to go and get some rest, maybe a bite to eat. He always refused. 

Eventually, the boys reached their breaking point. They’d marched right up to where Louis was sitting quietly in the waiting room and delivered an ultimatum, breaking their silence. Either he went back, or they’d take measures to force him back. He argued with them for a while, but finally, they reached a compromise: he’d leave as soon as Anne arrived. But he had to be here for her. It had to be him to explain everything to her without breaking down. The boys were reluctant, but they agreed anyway. They were no match for Louis’ stubbornness, and he was only more so after not sleeping for almost a full day. 

He’d been in contact with Anne, and she kept telling him things, giving him updates on where she was. When she got on the plane. When she landed. When she called a cab to drive her to the hospital. When the stupid traffic was delaying her from seeing her own son on what may well be his deathbed. 

In return, he sent her updates on Harry. Any chance he had, he texted her even at the smallest change in Harry’s status. Mostly, it was just one minute closer to him possibly waking up. Because he was going to. He had to. 

Louis sighed, rubbing at his temples. He sat in the seat beside Harry’s bed, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Harry’s chest. Tubes were connected to his nose, steadily supplying him with oxygen. It was frightening to hear all of the details, especially how it took an hour until Harry was breathing on his own again. His shirt and binder were cut from his torso so the paramedics could have better access to his chest in order to perform CPR, and Louis had to admit, he felt a little conscious on Harry’s behalf, the hospital gown clinging to his skin, the rounded shape of his chest exposed. It had taken years for Harry to finally feel comfortable enough to take his binder off around Louis, and even then, he had a shirt on. Now, anyone could see it, a more vulnerable side to Harry revealed. He noticed the way the boys pointedly ignored them whenever they were sitting beside him, their silent vigil keeping them quiet. They respected just as much as he did. Even more so, probably. They hadn’t slept with him once and then fought with him the very next day. So much for trying to be a gentleman. 

His eyelids drooped as he sighed with exhaust. He held a finger up, rubbing his eyes and blinking, hoping to dash away the sleepy feeling. He couldn’t fall asleep. Not now. Not when Anne was literal minutes away, and he’d have to be awake to talk to her, possibly console her. He’d have to explain that it was all his fault. The guilt was eating him from the inside out, rotting his insides, tainting what used to be good and staining it for forever. He knew it would hurt her to hear, but it was the truth, and she had to know. And if she ended up hating him, he could live with that. She’d have plenty of reason. Her son was almost dead because of him. If he did die, Louis would never forgive himself. 

He swallowed, rubbing his thumbs together as he waited for time to pass. Anne hadn’t messaged him in over half an hour, so she could be literally anywhere. And every minute she wasn’t here was just another minute Harry wasn’t awake. Louis didn’t know if he believed in miracles. If they existed, maybe one would’ve happened already. But he knew how much Harry loved his mum, and maybe there would be something about having Anne there. Something about maternal love, perhaps. He’d never seen anyone have a stronger bond with their mum. So, if a miracle were to happen, maybe Anne would be the one to bring it about.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it, fishing it out from where it was shoved inside, next to gum wrappers and loose dollar bills. He opened it, and saw a new message from Anne, finally. He sighed in relief, clicking on it in order to read it. 

**From Anne: I’m here.**

He pursed his lips, typing out his response. 

**From Louis: Thank god. We’re in room 306**

**From Anne: I’ll have to check in**

**From Anne: I’ll be there in a little bit.**

He nodded, waiting for another text, but nothing came. Sighing, he turned off his phone, holding it in between his hands. He was suddenly very awake, and aware as well. He really could use a shower, he felt like he’d been coated in layers of dirt and grime and needed to wash them off. Except for his hands. He washed his hands every so often, due to the hospital signs posted everywhere. He resisted the temptation to leave, though. He had to talk to Anne first. 

He heard the door creak open, and he got up, met with the sight of a very disheveled Anne. Her eyes were half glazed over, and the corners of her lips drooped, chin trembling. She took a deep breath as her eyes rested on her son, a shudder running through her shoulders. Louis reached out a hand to help her steady. She shook her head, grasping Louis’ hand so tightly, his knuckles turned white, and she slowly walked over to Harry’s side. A tear slipped from her green eyes, identical to Harry’s, trickling down the side of her face. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis said as she reached out to hold Harry’s hand, letting go of Louis’ and running her fingers through his messy curls. “I wasn’t there when I should’ve been.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be,” she sighed, running her thumb over the back of Harry’s hand. “Nothing will change if we just keep blaming ourselves.”

He swallowed hard. “But you should know,” he said, sniffing. “It is my fault.” She turned to look at him, looking confused and weary. She beckoned to the chair. “Sit,” she said, and he did. “Now, please explain, how is it your fault?” 

He sighed. “I’m in love with Harry,” he said, and her eyes widened, her expression softening. “And I asked him out on a date a few days ago,” he explained. Pursing his lips, he continued, “He asked me to stay in his hotel room, and well, things went from there.” He cut himself off so he could take a deep breath. “The next day, we got into a fight. I let him walk away, and I didn’t go after him. That was when the picture was taken. I’m sure you’ve seen it,” he added, and she nodded. He bit down on his lip, irritating the cut that was already there, a product of his own frustration and anger at himself. “If I’d made him stay, that picture wouldn’t have been taken, and he wouldn’t be here.”

Anne shook her head, looking down at the ground. “Louis, it’s not your fault,” she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off, saying, “Look at it this way. I could find any chain of reactions that leads me to be the cause for this. But the thing is, Louis, that if we keep blaming ourselves, nothing will change. We won’t feel any better. We’ll feel worse,” she said. “There’s no point in blaming ourselves. And as much as I’d like to point the finger at myself and say I was the reason, I know that I wasn’t the only reason. Did you even check your socials?” He shook his head. “There were people online telling him to kill himself. I got so many messages about it, telling me I should’ve never had him. Telling me I should be ashamed of him. They are the reason,” she cried, her fingers curling up into her fist angrily. “They are the reason. People like them are the reason. I’d rather say it was me, but it was Harry who made his decisions. It was a stupid thing to do, but there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it.” She reassured him. 

“I should’ve seen it coming,” Louis insisted. “I should’ve seen the signs, I should’ve talked to him-“

“There are no signs.” Anne said. He looked up at her curiously. “What do you mean?” He asked. She sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Other than someone telling you they want to do something like this, there isn’t really any telling if they want to,” she explained, looking over at Harry. “Believe me. I know. This isn’t the first time he’s done this,” she said softly, tearing up. Louis sat quietly, listening to her speak. “He was almost ten. I thought he was just a happy kid. I didn’t think anything could be wrong. Clearly, that was wrong,” she said spitefully, almost cursing herself. “He jumped off of the roof. Almost worked, too. I thought he was going to die. He was so little,” she cried. “It was before his transition started. I didn’t even know he was going through that, and so young too. I wished I could’ve been there, or paid more attention to how he was doing.” She turned to Louis. “This is a serious thing, and hard to deal with on all sides. But you can’t blame yourself. Promise me you won’t linger on that,” she pleaded. He nodded, promising silently. 

She smiled weakly. “Now, he’ll tell you the same thing when he wakes up,” she said, sitting down in the chair beside Louis. “You mean-“ he started, but she shook her head. “I don’t,” she said. “He’s going to wake up. I know. He just needs his time.” Louis nodded, crossing his hands over his lap. 

Harry would wake up. 


	18. Seventeen

Louis stood under the warm spray of the shower head, letting the weariness and exhaust of the past two days be washed away by the water. He’d finally returned to his hotel room, all alone, and immediately collapsed into the bed, not even bothering to peel off the same clothes he’d worn the entire time he’d been by Harry’s side in the hospital. It was Anne who’d finally pleaded with him to go and get the rest his body and mind needed. It was just as unhealthy for him to stay and dwell on his thoughts there without any sleep as it had been when Harry was in the same situation, and he was just exhausted in every way imaginable. 

He’d woken up less than an hour ago, dragging himself out of bed and into the bathroom. He turned his phone off, leaving it in a drawer by the bed, walking to the shower and peeling off his clothes, stepping under the water. He let it pour over his face, wiping at his eyes carefully with his fingers. He reached for the soap, lathering it up in his hands and rubbing it into his greasy hair, impossibly tangled. 

Getting out, he wrapped the nearest towel loosely around his waist, ignoring the shivers running through his body as he stepped out into the chilly room. Standing in front of the mirror, he reached for his razor, shaving away the stubble that had begun to grow as he ignored it for days. He brushed his teeth as well, spending time picking at the gaps in between them, digging out bits of food. He stepped out of the bathroom, grabbing fresh clothing, pulling a T shirt over his head and his jeans up his damp legs. He held his towel over his head, draping it loosely, rubbing it between his hands to dry off his fringe. When he was finished, he looked in the mirror. 

He still looked tired. That was to be expected, at least. But he looked cleaner, fresher than he had before. There was only slight puffiness beneath his eyes, and it appeared that the long hours of sleep he’d caught up on had done him well, revitalizing him in a way, bringing the life back into his cheeks. They were rosy again, a pale pink color like a flower. The shade was almost identical to the ones the flowers had sported at their old apartment, his and Harry’s. Louis smiled at the memory, remembering how Harry was so insistent on which flower they should be. It was so long ago, Louis swore he’d almost forgotten it up until now. But he remembered being in love with Harry then, as well. Even if he was trying to convince himself otherwise. 

He didn’t know why he let his feelings linger within himself for so long. His family would accept him; this much he knew. His friends never had a problem with people loving other people of their own gender, so there was no problem there. Maybe he was just scared of getting the same treatment from management like what Harry received, almost on a daily basis. Maybe that was selfish. But he’d made his decisions back then, and even if they weren’t smart, and they only benefitted himself, he’d made them. And there was no turning back time. There was only moving forward, and learning from your mistakes along the way. And he hoped, with everything he had, he’d keep learning how to be a better person until the day he died. 

He walked back over to the bed, opening up the drawer in the table. Grabbing his phone, he saw almost a dozen notifications, and over half of them from Anne. Wrinkling his nose in confusion, he dialed her, holding the phone up to his ear. He prayed that it wasn’t bad news. 

“Hello?” He asked as soon as she picked up. “What were you calling me for?”

“Louis, thank goodness,” she sighed as he was speaking. “It’s Harry. He’s awake.” Louis sat straight up at the news, hand clasped to his hand in shock and joy. “That’s amazing,” He said, getting up and walking over to his shoes, slipping them on. “I’ll come over right away.”

“I was wanting to ask,” she said, “will you please give him a talk, alone maybe? He’s not telling me anything. Maybe he’ll open up to you.” His breath caught at this piece of information. It frightened him that Harry wouldn’t even talk to his own mum. There must be a reason. “Yeah, of course,” he agreed. “Anything.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “See you in a minute.”

\---

Louis walked down the halls after checking in, getting his visitor’s patch and sticking it to the outside of his jacket. He counted off the familiar doors, pointing at Harry’s and knocking softly, not wanting to disturb anything. Anne answered the door, smiling weakly at the sight of Louis. “Hello,” she said softly, opening the door wider to let him in. He nodded at her as he walked in, eyes moving to the hospital bed instantly. 

Harry lay quietly on the bed, staring at his closed fists in front of him, folded together and lying on his lap. He didn’t even look up as Louis entered, staying silent, only his eyelids moving as they fluttered down and back up as he blinked, showing a glimpse of dull green eyes. Louis sighed softly at the sight, saddened at his still form. Anne glanced over at her son, and Louis could see the pain hidden behind her eyes. 

“I’ll leave you two for a minute,” she said, patting Louis’ shoulder. He watched as she left, before sinking down in the seat beside Harry’s bed. He sat in silence for a minute, trying to think of anything he could say to make this better. 

“Hey,” he ended up saying in a very soft voice. Harry seemed to make a slight movement in his blank expression at Louis’ voice, but otherwise, he did nothing. Louis leaned forward, folding his hands together in front of him. “You scared me,” he said. 

Again, nothing. No movement whatsoever. But he kept trying. 

“I missed talking to you,” he said, exhaling. “I missed your voice. I hoped I’d get to hear it again. Didn’t want our last conversation to be a fight.” He paused, biting down on his bottom lip. “I’m really sorry about that, ya’ know?” He asked an unresponsive Harry. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

Harry glanced over at him, and Louis swore he could see a spark of life in those sad green eyes. Louis pursed his lips, aching for Harry to talk back to him, even if he was upset with Louis. “The premiere was cancelled,” he commented. “S’ shame, but most of it was scripted anyways.” Harry pursed his lips. Louis cursed himself for bringing up the movie. Now, Harry was going to blame himself for causing the cancellation and disappointing the fans, who still had no idea about what had happened to Harry. 

“I was really scared,” Louis sighed, taking in a breath to keep himself from crying. “I thought you were going to die.”

“So did I,” Harry said softly. Louis almost jumped at the sound, however quiet and raspy Harry’s voice sounded. Maybe this was the miracle Louis had been waiting for. “The doctors think you should see a psychiatrist,” He said. 

“I already see a therapist,” Harry said. “What more can I do?”

“They’re talking about referring you to a rehab center,” Louis explained. Harry sighed, tearing up. “But I’m not crazy. I’m not an addict,” he added. “I don’t want to be locked up.”

“It’s just to help you,” Louis said. “We all want to see you get better.”

“What good would it do?” Harry asked, grimacing as a tear streamed from his sad green eyes. “I fail at everything I try to do. I can’t even kill myself without failing.”

Louis remained quiet. “Harry,” he said firmly. “You don’t fail at everything. But,” he added, “I will always be grateful you failed at this.” Harry turned to him. “Why?” He asked. “My life doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t fucking imagine a world without you in it,” Louis said, his words coming out more like a sob. “You’ve changed my life so much.” Harry scoffed. “I love you, Harry,” Louis said quietly, a tear gathering in the corner of his eye. 

Harry turned to face him sharply. “You’re lying,” he accused him. “You’re only saying that because you don’t want me to die.” Louis shook his head. “I swear, I’m not lying, Harry,” He promised. “I’d never do that. Not anymore,” he swore. “Not again. I have loved you since the minute I met you, and I will love you for the rest of my life. I promise,” he said. “I promise.”

Harry’s chin trembled, tears overcoming him. Louis reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly within his own. “It’s ok, love,” Louis soothed him, weakly smiling in an attempt to get Harry to copy his expression. “Just let it all out.”

“Can you kiss me?” Harry asked. Lous hesitated, but leaned in, pressing his lips to Harry’s, only for a couple short moments. Harry sighed in disbelief as they broke apart. “Just making sure this is real,” he said, shaking. Louis nodded, squeezing his hand. 

“I love you too,” Harry said. “I always did,” he added, his words sounding bitter as he thought up of the memories, tainted by his own emotion. “I didn’t tell you that night,” he said, Louis listening closely, determined to never ignore Harry’s words again. “I didn’t want to drag you down with my shit. I didn’t want to ruin your life.”

“And you won’t,” Louis promised. “You make my life better.” Harry nodded, a tear running down his cheek. “Will you please promise you’d get help?” Louis pleaded. Harry hesitated, biting his lip, before he nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I’d do anything for you. I’d die for you.”

Louis shook his head at that. “No, don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t die for me. Can you try living for me? Give it another try?” Harry cried out. “Why?” He wondered aloud. “Everything just hurts.”

“I’ll be there,” Louis promised. “I’ll help you. I’ll make everything hurt a little less. But you can’t give up. Not yet. Please,” he begged. “Please get help.”

Harry sighed, but he nodded. “Ok,” he said. Louis smiled weakly, leaning over to engulf Harry in a huge hug. He didn’t let go of Harry, holding on to him tightly. 

“Once you get better, I promise we’ll be together,” he said. Harry looked panicked for a minute. “You’ll visit me, right?” He asked frantically. “Please?”

Louis held up a hand up. “If they allow it, yes. Of course,” he said. Harry took a couple deep breaths, calming down. “Ok,” he said. “Ok.”

Louis kissed him softly, sealing the promise. As much as it hurt, he wasn’t going to ask Harry for romance yet. He just needed Harry healthy. But he meant everything he said in his promise. When the time came, and Harry was doing better, he’d show him how it felt to be loved. 


	19. Eighteen

Louis sighed, reaching up to straighten his collar. He stood right outside the conference room, the last one to arrive. He knew that Liam, Zayn and Niall were all sitting around the oval table, in various chairs, but all next to each other. Strength came in numbers, after all, and they were almost always outnumbered in these situations. So their strength had to come from sticking right by each other. Today especially, now that they were one man down. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the hardest thing he would have to do all day. Well, second hardest. Today had already been particularly long, and he just wanted to fall into his comfy hotel bed, but he couldn’t. Not yet. 

Opening the doors, he walked in dramatically. All eyes turned upon him, from the boys’ grateful glances to their manager’s angry glares. He smiled at them, not really meaning anything behind it. Taking a seat beside Niall, he made a point to be as discreet as he could. Aggravating them would not make any progress in their argument. 

Alan sighed angrily, and Louis almost expected steam to start blowing out of his ears. His face was already reddening as he appeared to grow more and more frustrated. Eventually he pursed his lips, speaking, “Where is Harry? We’re not going to start until he’s present.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, shrugging. “Might be a little hard,” he said, catching Alan’s attention. “What do you mean?” The manager asked, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Well,” Louis sighed, “you see, Harry is currently on a flight back to London.”

“What?” Alan fumed. “Why?” Louis sighed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, he’s gone to be admitted into a mental hospital. You know, to recover from the suicide attempt you caused.” The manager stared angrily right at Louis. “We did not cause anything,” he seethed. “To accuse us of something like that is immature and could falsely land us in legal trouble.”

Louis nodded. “You’ve done your research,” he remarked, making Alan even angrier. “But I don’t think I was accusing anybody else in this room but you. You’re the only guilty one in this room,” he said pointedly. Alan arched a brow. “Oh, really?” He spat. “You don’t have any legitimate proof of me being guilty for whatever the hell you’re making up.”

Louis shook his head. “No, no, you’re right,” he admitted. “But there are five people in this room who will testify to the fact that you discriminated a client of yours, who,” he added, “you knew had mental health issues already, possibly driving him to attempt suicide.”

Alan scoffed. “And who’s the fifth?” He asked. “Besides Harry, of course.” 

Shirley sighed, taking off her glasses and resting them on the table. “That would be me,” she said quietly. Alan whipped around, channeling his rage onto her. “You?” He snorted derisively. “You’d lose your job.” She glowered at him, arching one of her sharp eyebrows. “I have the means to go on unemployment for at least a year,” she said. “My wife has a job, she can provide for the both of us. I am fully prepared to face whatever comes with my testimony.”

“If you have to testify,” Louis interjected, and she nodded, grateful for the reminder. 

It was a smart move on the boys’ part to reach out to Shirley for help. The most tolerable out of their managers, she was the only one who’d never had a bad thing to say about Harry. In fact, as Zayn and Niall found out from an assistant, she’d had a full blown argument with Alan after finding out about his threats towards Harry. She’d never defended them until then, but the boys soon realized that they would stand a better chance of winning if they had her on their side. And to their surprise, she’d agreed to help them. 

Alan looked positively furious. “What are you proposing?” He asked. 

“The boys all have enough evidence to take this case to court. In the event that they win their case,” Shirley said, “their contracts will be nullified, and you will owe them a fine. Their work with you will come to an end, and you will be forced to revise your contracts to fit under the Equality Act, should you be allowed to continue working as a producing label. As of today, I resign from Modest! Management,” she added with a flourish, her voice cold and spiteful. 

Alan took her words into consideration. “And should they not take it to court, what are you saying?” He asked, looking disgusted at the fact that he had to ask. She smiled smugly. “You will revise your contracts. With all of your clients,” she added. “And should the boys choose to want their contracts nullified for the opportunity to sign under a new label,” she said, “you will release them from their contracts.”

Alan sighed in frustration, but Louis swore he could see a glimmer of sadness behind those cold, shark like eyes. For a moment, he wondered if he might actually regret treating them the way he had. But then, he reminded himself. Of course Alan didn’t. And if he did, it was only because he would be losing the money that came with the band’s success. 

“What about their movie?” Alan asked. “We still have the rights to that.”

“If it is released without the consent of the boys, they could rightfully sue you,” Shirley reminded him, making Alan curse beneath his breath, throwing his head back in frustration. “Jesus,” he cried. He looked around at the boys, folding his hands in front of him. “I’d assume the ultimate decision is that you’d want your contracts to be made void, huh?” They all shared glances with each other, nodding. 

He sighed again. “And the decision would be unanimous,” he muttered, writing down a note. “We want to protect Harry,” Zayn said. Alan glanced up at him. “Sure,” he said, hints of bitterness to his tone.

Louis couldn’t even hide his smirk as Alan said, “I’ll have the paperwork filed.” He felt like his smile could burst his cheeks open, it was so wide. 

They argued back and forth a little while, mostly about the album. In the end, the album was scrapped, much to Louis’ disappointment, but the boys all had the rights to the songs they’d written. And they were made to sign a paper that agreed the songs wouldn’t be released until at least a year after their contracts with Modest! were nullified. And, for the most part, Louis could live with that. They probably wouldn’t be releasing anything until they’d signed to another label. 

A statement would be released next week, detailing the boy’s split from Modest! Management, and explaining that the premiere and album release had both been cancelled. They would add a bit about Harry taking a break from the spotlight for personal reasons, not addressing anything about the photo or the rumors that spread from there. Louis got angry at that. Harry literally almost died by his own hands after seeing what everyone was saying about them, but of course management was going to ignore it, like they did everything else. But they did end his contract, the one that disallowed him from ever coming out while signed under their management, or publicly acknowledging the transgender community, or even their transgender fans, a detail Louis was unaware of. He was absolutely horrified to find out, but at least he now knew the reason Harry had never talked about it. He had a reason to be scared of it. 

Eventually, they were allowed to leave as the legal details were sorted out. Louis walked down the hallway, sighing with relief. Finally, one nightmare was over. 

“Great job in there,” Liam told him, making him smile. 

“Thanks,” he said, grinning as he lifted his water bottle to his lips, taking a small sip. Looking around at the other boys, they all looked relieved as well. 

“Say, Lou,” Niall said. Louis nodded. “Yeah?” He asked. 

“What you said in there, about Harry,” Niall started off tentatively. “Was that real? Is Harry in London?” 

Louis hesitated, biting down nervously on his bottom lip, sore from all the times he’d sunken his teeth in the soft flesh over the past couple of weeks. He nodded, sighing. “Yeah,” he said. “He needs the help, and it’s best that he gets it back in London. He’s traveling with his mum,” he added. 

“Oh,” Niall said. “I mean, I knew he’d have to see a specialist, but I didn’t realize he’d had to go to a hospital.” Louis nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I get it. Trust me, I wished he didn’t have to go, but he needs it.”

“And are you doing ok?” Zayn asked, concern and sympathy radiating from warm brown eyes. Louis sighed, but he nodded. “I’m good,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie. “I’ll be good. I love Harry, and that’s not gonna change,” He added. “I want to see him being happy. It’d be nice to get the happier Harry back.”

“Does this mean you two aren’t…” Liam trailed off awkwardly, and Louis shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ve promised to wait for him to get better. But he can’t handle the stress of a relationship while he’s in rehab. After, maybe,” he added, smiling hopefully. 

And he did have hope. He believed that Harry was truly going to get better, and he wasn’t about to forget his promise to visit him, or at least call. 

He couldn’t wait to see him happy again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a warning, we are two chapters from the end!! i'm so happy people have read and enjoyed this fic, and i hope you'll check out some of my other works. I don't plan to stop writing any time soon : )


	20. Nineteen

And it was hard for Harry. At first, he didn't want to do anything. It was hard to shake the numb feeling he always seemed to notice in the middle of the night, and all he really wanted was to see his mum or Louis, who did keep his promise to visit. He was only allowed visitors after two weeks, and Louis came straight away. Harry had been so excited. All he wanted to do was hug him and kiss him, but he forced himself to stay still in his seat, talking to him instead, and telling him how hard he was trying to get better. 

Three months later, he was discharged from the mental hospital, still advised to see a therapist weekly, along with taking his prescriptions under supervision. He was going to be under suicide watch for a while, but Louis made a pact with him. He and Harry could live in the same apartment, like they used to, and he’d take care of him. Anne stayed with them the first couple of weeks, making sure Harry was safe. 

And there was the underlying fear that he’d never stop feeling this way. But he prayed that one day, he would be able to stop feeling so afraid. He’d learned to live again once before, he could do it now. And he was so grateful that he was finally free from his contracts, now signed under a new management, a kinder policy towards LGBTQ+ clients. Now, he could almost rest. 

Almost. 

He fixed his collar. He wore a relatively loose shirt, no fear of having his binder exposed this time, seeing as that already happened. He ran his fingers through his hair, slightly dampened with sweat. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, glancing into the beautiful blue of his boyfriend’s eyes. 

Oh. That happened as well. It was definitely interesting. Harry had never been in a relationship as committed as this, and after being together officially for almost two months, even though, technically it was five, he couldn’t help but feel like this was going to last forever. Louis was one of the best people in his life, and the only one who actually made Harry feel beautiful, in a way. Every kiss felt more perfect than the last, and Louis always went out of his way to make sure Harry was doing alright. There weren’t many times he was left in a room alone, but Louis trusted Harry enough to let him be all by himself when he needed it. It felt nice to be trusted, especially given Harry’s track record. He tried to think of all the things that made him want to live before. Mum. Gemma. His friends. The chance to actually be himself. And now, he had another reason to live. 

Louis. Perfect in every way. Beautiful. And he thought Harry was actually good enough for him, which was something he always had trouble with, not knowing whether to believe it or to just take it as a complement. But Louis always told him that, and coming from his lips, it sounded like a promise. And Harry would be damned before he broke his promise to Louis. 

  
  


“Hey,” Louis was saying. He smiled at Harry, reaching over to place a soft hand on Harry’s cheek, caressing the soft skin, “Don’t worry about it,” he reminded Harry, glancing over to the chairs set up, opposing each other underneath the lighting. It had been Harry’s own idea to arrange an interview just to explain what had been going on with him the past five months, and to explain what he’d be doing from now on. He’d specifically asked for it not to be a live interview, with an audience. He didn’t think he could bear to describe what he’d gone through while people stared right at him, eyes boring holes into his existence. Some wouldn’t see him the same way anymore, and some wouldn’t respect him anymore. The very thought was hard to stomach. 

“Too late,” Harry muttered, trying to take in a deep breath. The interviewer, a reporter from Glamour UK, was sitting in his chair already. He seemed kind, and he had a nice face. He’d already smiled and shook his hands when he’d introduced himself to Harry, and he seemed nice enough. He’d been informed of most of the details of Harry’s story in an email Harry insisted on writing himself, leaving out certain parts. But for the most part, he knew what had been going on. 

“Harry, listen to me,” Louis said, his soft voice snapping Harry back into reality. Louis smiled at him, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against Harry’s, reaching up with his thumb to wipe away a tear that had begun to form in the corner of Harry’s eye. “You are so amazing. This won’t change anything about that,” Louis told him, flashing a reassuring grin. “You’re going to do this perfectly.”

Harry nodded, taking in a deep breath. He smiled at Louis, pressing their foreheads together as he closed his eyes. Louis leaned in quickly, placing a feathery kiss on Harry’s lips. 

Louis squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right here,” he promised, and Harry nodded back at him as he walked over to the sitting area, where the cameras and lights were set up. This was likely going to be the most important interview of his career, and he was determined to get it right. The interviewer, Josh, glanced up, smiling. “Hullo,” he said cheerfully. He stood up, holding out an arm for a hug, and Harry reciprocated it, smiling as he hugged Josh. “Are you ready to begin?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I am,” he said. Josh grinned again. “Great,” he said. “There are a few things we should go over, is that alright.” Harry nodded again. “Amazing,” Josh said, gesturing towards the other seat, inviting him to sit down across from him. Harry sank down into the plush armchair, surprised at how comfortable it was. 

“Now, Harry, this is pretaped, so if at any point you don’t want to answer a certain question, or you want something cut out, or you want to take a break for a minute, that’s perfectly fine,” Josh explained. Harry nodded, speaking, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Josh said, looking down at his cards. 

“Alright, filming in three, two, one…”

“Hello everybody,” Josh said, smiling at the cameras. “I’m Josh Smith, here today with Harry Styles of One Direction,” Harry smiled, waving as well. “Now, Harry, a few months ago, there was a photo of you that circulated the Internet, and caused several rumors to sprout as a result. In your words, what was the picture taken of?”

Harry gulped, taking in a deep breath. “The picture was of me wearing my binder,” he explained. “I wear one because I’m transgender.”

Silence. It was like time had stilled. He pursed his lips, nervous. This was how he would come out, and he’d hoped that the fans would take it well. Josh nodded, letting him have his time. “When I was little, I always just knew that I was a boy, but I was born female,” Harry continued. “Meaning that I am trans, female to male. I started transitioning when I was ten, and I have yet to complete my transition.”

“And growing up knowing that, how did that affect you personally?” Josh asked. 

“I felt frustrated a lot,” Harry admitted. “I felt like nobody understood what I was feeling, and I didn’t really know how to describe what I was feeling. I was a kid,” he added, shrugging. “I didn’t know enough words to describe it.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued. “There were some days when I just wanted everything to be over,” he admitted. “I didn’t really see that there would be a happy ending to this.”

Josh’ gaze softened, but he waited until he was certain Harry wasn’t going to speak anymore, for fear of interrupting. “Did that feeling linger?” He asked. Harry shook his head. “There were a few years that I finally felt right,” Harry explained. “Can’t say that I feel like that right now, but I’m doing well.”

“During the X Factor, did the competition have any effect on your transition?” Josh asked. 

“I had to stop going to my gender specialist,” Harry said. “I haven’t gotten any further in my transition since I was around fourteen. I got my birth certificate changed to correct the gender.”

“And now, you and your band have recently split from Modest! Management,” Josh commented. “With this break in releasing music, will you be transitioning any further?” Harry grinned, shrugging. “I mean, I hadn’t really given any thought to it,” he said. “Maybe. I’d like to.”

“What advice would you give to a transgender fan struggling with their identity?” Josh asked. Harry thought for a minute, trying to think of the perfect response. “Don’t stay quiet,” Harry answered. “I did for the longest time, and I suffered the consequences from that. Talk to a friend, or a parent. The best thing is having support. I don’t think I’d be here today if not for the support I got from my mum and my friends growing up.”

Josh smiled, and they kept talking for a while, Harry elaborating on the details of his personal life. The whole time, Harry realized that he was honestly grateful that he was here. And that was thanks to his mum, the boys, Louis, all of them helping to save his life, more than once in his mum’s case. 

And glancing over at Louis, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how lucky he was. Not just for the wonderful opportunities thrown his way, but for the chances he’d gotten to start again and make things even better. 

Maybe he wasn’t a failure.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter left!! thank you so much for reading xx


	21. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter, i hope you enjoy reading this!!

It was the day the interview would be released. Louis kept watching Harry, constantly shifting in his seat. And judging from the way his coffee sat untouched on the table in front of him, it wasn’t caffeine keeping him from sitting still. 

“Harry,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to place over his boyfriend’s, calming him down. Harry glanced over, taking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, “just nervous.” Louis sighed, his expression softening. “Don’t be,” he reassured Harry. “It’s a scary thing. And you’re being really brave.” 

Harry smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I got a message from Josh awhile ago, it’s going up in ten minutes.” He swallowed hard, pursing his lips. “I’m scared to see what people will say.”

“Don’t be,” Louis said, reaching out and placing a hand on Harry’s back, rubbing circles into his sweater. “They’re our fans. They’ll support you through anything.” Harry nodded, understanding. His phone buzzed on the table, and he picked it up, his face lit up by the glow of his screen. “It’s Zayn,” he remarked, smiling as he read the message. “He says best wishes with the interview.” He chuckled. “Looks like he’s been having fun in America.”

Louis was, rather unfortunately, the only person besides Liam available to be with Harry at the time of the interview. Zayn was busy sorting out details of their new record label in America, and Niall was visiting his family in Mullingar. Both had sent their love, however, over several messages and promises to watch it and support Harry. All three boys were unimaginably proud of their friend, and Louis had never been prouder of his beautiful boyfriend. He was so brave.

They heard a noise at the door, and watched as Liam walked in, wearing his usual smile and holding a paper bag within his hands. “Hey,” he said, grinning. “Brought you something from my mum, she insisted I give it to you,” he explained, setting the bag down in front of Harry. The curly haired boy reached for the bag, tentatively peering in as he opened it. A smile erupted over his thanks. “Aww,” he cried, pulling out a tin of cookies. “Tell your mum thanks for me, this is the sweetest.” 

“Course,” Liam said, sitting down as he pulled a chair up to the table. “So, how much longer before the video’s up?” Harry glanced at time on his phone screen. “Six minutes,” he sighed shakily. Liam nodded, smiling at Harry. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll always be here.” 

Harry nodded, grinning nervously at the promise. Louis smiled, leaning forward to grab his mug, the tea inside still piping hot, steam rising from the surface. He took a sip, testing the temperature before he swallowed any larger gulps of it. “Well, Harry, I just wanted to say that everything will be fine,” Louis reminded Harry, placing a hand over his. “Everything’s going to be alright,” he promised. 

Harry smiled, blushing slightly. His phone buzzed again, and Louis watched as he bit his bottom lip nervously. “Three minutes,” Harry sighed. “That’s what Josh is saying.” He swallowed hard, a flash of sudden terror flashing in his eyes. “What if I did something wrong?” He asked quietly. “What if I said something wrong and everyone hates me?” 

Louis sighed. “Nobody’s going to hate you, Harry,” he said. “And Josh was the best interviewer we could find. Nothing bad will be in there.” 

“I guess it’s too late to have second thoughts,” Harry muttered. “There’s only two minutes left.” Louis sighed again. He wished he could ease all of Harry’s worries, erase all the pain he’d dealt with for the past three years. If he could, he would. There was no greater joy than the one brought to Louis whenever Harry didn’t fake a smile or force a laugh. When it was genuine, and real, it seemed perfect. And time stopped, and for a minute, they were the only people in the world. 

Except for Liam sitting next to them, but Louis wasn’t going to let his presence ruin the moment. 

“It’s going to be alright,” Louis repeated, squeezing Harry’s hands. “I promise. We’ll get through it. And if anybody tries to hurt you, I will personally go after them.” Harry laughed, perfect and genuine. Time threatened to stop, but it didn’t, and two minutes soon ran up. Harry pulled up the page online, watching the interview for the first time. Louis watched his expression as Harry watched himself through the screen of his phone, his voice sounding hitched during the interview, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. 

The three boys sat there, watching the whole interview, about thirty minutes long. Louis didn’t mind. It was captivating to watch Harry onscreen, the way he composed himself, taking shaky breaths and pursing his lips whenever he didn’t know how to answer a question. And even though Louis had watched it all happen behind the scenes, it was so much more clear to hear Harry utter every word of his truth, for the first time. It wasn’t the most ideal situation to serve as a reason for coming out, but Harry had told Louis he was grateful that he finally got to. And Louis swore he could feel his heart flutter every time Harry glanced over to where he knew he’d been standing behind a camera, making as little noise as he possibly could while his boyfriend talked. 

While Harry was nervous, Louis believed with his whole heart that things would be better from now on. Between a new management and the support of their families and friends, Louis just knew that they could finally be happy. Maybe. At least, he wanted that. 

He’d dreamed of finally getting to be this close to Harry, to call him his boyfriend, to call him “love,” to brush their hands together and intertwine their fingers, and to press soft kisses to those plump pink lips all night long. And now, he finally had his dream. Harry too. He’d often described in detail all his feelings for Louis before they even started dating, and Louis did the same. He couldn’t fathom the fact that they hadn’t been together all along just because they were too scared to. He felt like maybe, just maybe, their lives would have been a little kinder had they been honest with their feelings from the start. 

And they were told that when they wanted to, they could come out. Even though that thought terrified Louis slightly, he wanted it all the same. Eleanor had been dropped as a beard, and she and Louis had “broken up” publicly. It didn’t matter, not anymore. Her career had begun to take off because of his influence, and he no longer had to hide anything. 

The interview ended with a title card, pop music playing in the outro. Harry sighed in relief, picking his phone back up off the table. “That wasn’t bad,” he said shakily. “I wanna see what the fans are saying.”

“Ok,” Liam said, pulling out his phone. “Wow,” he said breathlessly. “You’re trending already.”

“Really?” Harry asked shyly. Liam nodded holding out his phone to show them. And sure enough, his name was already pretty high up on the trends list. There weren’t any additional tags, just his name, and Louis swore he could see Harry pale the tiniest amount at the sight. Pulling out his own phone, he sifted through the tag, clicking and favoriting the nice tweets. 

“Harry, look, people are happy for you,” Liam said, reaching over to show Harry his phone screen again. The boy barely nodded, immediately glancing down at his own phone screen, where he stared blankly down at what he was reading. Louis pulled a confused face, wrinkling his nose as he leaned over, looking down at Harry’s phone to see what it was that he was reading. Jaw dropping in shock, he reached for the phone, much to Harry’s protests. 

**you can’t have a girl in a boy band. kick harry out**

“You shouldn’t be reading that!” Louis cried, watching Harry’s sad expression. “Please, Harry, it isn’t good for you.”

“But I have to know what they’re saying!” Harry exclaimed, tears pooling in his green eyes. “I have to!” He pleaded. Louis pursed his lips. “They’re not worth your time, Haz,” he said soothingly. “They’re being stupid. Here,” he added, showing Harry a tweet he found himself. 

A teenage girl had written the tweet in particular, explaining that as she was in the middle of transitioning herself, she was so happy to have somebody to look up to in the band. Harry smiled sadly at the story, biting down on his bottom lip. Louis’ expression softened, realizing that Harry was not yet fully convinced. 

“Here,” he said, turning off both phones and setting them to the side. “Let’s go on a walk.”

“All of us?” Liam asked. Louis shook his head. “No, just me and Haz,” he explained. “I’m sure you can find some way to keep yourself entertained.” 

He turned back to Harry, holding out his hand. Harry took it timidly within his own, getting up from the table and walking towards the door with Louis. Together, they walked out into the morning air, chilled at the cold wind blowing. 

They strolled down the pathway, not a word spoken between the two of them. Eventually, they came to a bench, and they sat down. Louis wrapped an arm around Harry, looking out into the cloudy skies, small patches of blue shining through. It wasn’t a bad day at all, considering it was London in the spring. 

“Now,” Louis said, rubbing at Harry’s shoulder, making him smile. “Why were you looking at that?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I just had to know if anybody hated me. It’s not enough to just know that people accept me, I have to know if there’s a reason people hate me.” 

“Do you know why that is?” Louis asked. Harry sighed again, this one sounding sad. “It’s like being back in school,” he said softly. Louis sat up, listening carefully to the story Harry was telling him. “I used to get yelled at a lot,” Harry admitted. “Most of them I didn’t understand. The words, I mean,” he added. “I just wanted to know why they hated me. They never did tell me.” 

Louis looked at him, watching his sad green eyes look out onto the park in front of them. “Haz,” he said softly, leaning up against the younger boy. “People have never treated you right. And you deserve better than what you’ve gotten. I hope you realize that.”

“I know,” Harry said, smiling at Louis. “You tell me that a lot.” Louis chuckled. “But you’re right,” Harry continued. “And I want to believe it. It’s just hard, you know.” Louis nodded, wrapping his arms around Harry and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll help you until you do,” he promised. Harry smiled, blushing. “I love you,” he blurted out. Louis smiled, answering, “I love you too.” 

He smiled, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. “Now, are you ready to go back?” Harry smiled, nodding as he reached for Louis’ hand. They walked back together, hand in hand, both determined to keep their promises. 

As soon as they walked back into their flat, Liam rushed to them. “Somebody just tweeted that they saw you two at a park,” he said. “They didn’t take pictures, but they saw you kissing, and now it’s blowing up.”

Louis and Harry glanced at each other, sharing a grin as they did so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who read and supported this book. 
> 
> if you've made it this far, and you're sad it's over, i'm so happy to say that you've been fooled. 
> 
> i'm writing a sequel to this that will be posted fairly soon!!! it'll be called 'to be loving and grateful'
> 
> thank you so much <3 Lili


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